


Mudblood Lover

by LaZarus17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Community: dramione_duet, Drama, F/M, Romance, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-04-06 11:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 31,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19061701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaZarus17/pseuds/LaZarus17
Summary: He felt nauseous. An inescapable dread weighed him. He'd be dead by noon, by Potter's hand or Weasley's. It was a toss-up. At least he hoped he would. That would be the easiest way out of the Dark Lord's mission. And he certainly didn't want to live after what he had done to her. Dramione. Hogwarts: HBP. Canon. Warnings: Mature themes, dub-con





	1. Unexpected Visitors

The doors to the Malfoy gardens swung open as Draco strolled in covered in sweat. He had decided to spend every evening ﬂying, for he was determined, more than ever, to beat Potter to the snitch. So far his summer had been… well,  _interesting_. With his father behind bars in Azkaban the manor felt emptier and somehow lighter. He assumed the Dark Lord wasn't pleased and knew he'd have to atone for his father's failings. He desperately wanted to restore the Malfoy name but was clueless as to how he would do that especially without his father. The prophecy was gone and there was nothing he could do about that. Perhaps the Dark Lord would take the key to the Malfoy vaults. Yes, vaults plural… maybe he didn't know about the one in the Swiss Alps. He supposed that was the worst-case scenario. Mother must've been considering that development because though she held a strong front, Draco knew she spent most days worrying for her husband and anxious about the Dark Lord's return. His heart warmed at the thought of her. She was always fussing and doting on him. He had begun to wonder whether she was trying to compensate for his father's absence. He frowned not liking the direction of his thoughts. He decided to shower and go out to Diagon Alley. He'd buy her, her favorite chocolates. Oh, who was he kidding? He'd probably have half the box himself. With that plan in mind he entered the west wing of the manor and began walking the length of the corridor when Nix, the house elf apparated in front of him.

"Master Malfoy," he bowed his head, "Nix has come to announce the arrival of Mr. Nott and Mr. Zabini. Nix has asked them to wait in the library like Missus Malfoy instructed." Draco's brow furrowed wondering whether he'd made plans with them and forgotten. His friends rarely ever came around without owling him ﬁrst.  _Of course, he grimaced_. They've come to check on poor Malfoy whose father is in prison. He was frowning when he realized the daft elf was still standing there gawking at him.

"Go," he snapped. Nix didn't need to be told twice and disapparated back to the kitchens.

When Draco entered the library he found Theo had made himself at home laying down on the chaise lounge and Blaise was by the ﬁreplace helping himself to his father's whiskey.

"Draco!" Theo exclaimed a little too uncharacteristically.

"Mind getting your feet off my furniture Nott?" Draco replied. "It's antique you know." Theo chuckled good-naturedly and sat up. Draco nodded at Blaise as he took a large swig of his drink. "What are you two doing here?"

"Oh, we've just come to see how our dear friend is doing." Blaise smiled.

"I'm ﬁne," Draco clipped, returning Zabini's phony smile with his own. The cunning Slytherin bastard.

"That's good. I just got back from my holiday home in Switzerland. Was dreadfully boring, there's barely a wizarding community over there."

"Sounds better than anything I've done this summer," Theo remarked. Draco chuckled lowly making eye- contact with Blaise. The dark tall boy raised his glass to his lips, smirking behind the rim of his glass.

"That's not what I heard," Draco drawled. Theo's eyes darted between the two Slytherins, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He ﬁnally rested his gaze on Draco waiting for him to come out with it. Sighing dramatically, he said, "We know all about the little witch you've been shagging Theo." Blaise fell into the armchair opposite him, wearing a wide grin while he swirled his drink. The boys watched as their friend's face twisted with irritation.

"That vapid harpy!" he muttered. "She's as three-faced as a Cerberus and uglier than one too."

Draco scowled, he could hardly disagree with the bloke but there was no need for name calling. "You really trusted Pansy not to tell anyone that she saw you running around Rome with some bint?" he guffawed.

"Of course not! I was hoping she'd, I don't know,  _forget_."

"Pansy has a memory like an elephant, she never forgets a bloody thing!" Draco exclaimed. His lips twisted up into a sly smile, "Certainly never let Potter forget about his fainting episode with the dementors, did she?" All three boys sniggered.

"She still harps on about the time you forgot to buy her red roses instead of white ones for her thirteenth birthday," Theo laughed. "Or about the time you forgot to help her with that Potion's essay."

Draco rolled his eyes and snorted at the hilarity that is Pansy Parkinson.

"But..." Blaise hummed, his white teeth shining against his ebony skin in a set grin. "She seems to have forgotten all about the time she caught you staring at Mudblood Granger during the Yule Ball." The mirth in Draco's face all but vanished. He was seething inside as Zabini sat there with a smug look of triumph. Nott was shifting awkwardly on the chaise lounge seemingly to have found a great interest in the tassels of the bolster cushion.

Draco furrowed his brows deciding not to take the bait. "We all know how jealous and barmy Pansy can be," Draco replied in a nonchalant manner.

"Jealous?" Blaise mused in a theatrical manner. "Certainly... but barmy?"

"She is rather pretty," Theo said innocently. Both Draco and Zabini snapped their attention to him and frowned as though he'd announced he was in love with Snape. "For a Mudblood," he quickly added. Draco scowled. When the bloody hell had Nott began to consider Hermione Granger as pretty? She was…  _insufferable_. He appraised his friend for a moment and wondered how many times the bloke had examined Granger to come to this ridiculous conclusion.

"She's ﬁlth," he deadpanned. "End of."

With that, the conversation took on an anti-climatic turn. Theo began to recount the highlights of his Italian summer. Most included the witch he was seeing. Even Blaise couldn't help but drill Nott for information on his sexual escapades. But the boy had made it clear that he hadn't shagged her which meant that the three of them remained, disappointedly, virgins. To be honest, Draco found he rather missed this kind of normalcy. He imagined for a moment that in another life he'd be more concerned about getting shagged than making amends to the Dark Lord. He considered the lengths he'd have to go to, the clothes he'd have to buy her, the ridiculous requests he'd have to fulﬁll in order to convince Pansy to let him do anything below the waist. He wasn't sure if he really even wanted Pansy in that way. She was affectionate and caring but he'd never given a second thought to what she looked like underneath her robes.

He drew his attention back to the present. It was safe to say that Theodore Nott wasn't an ass kind of bloke. He was still regaling them with stories of his Italian witch and her symmetrically perfect breasts. Draco bit the inside of his cheek wondering how many hours his friend had spent staring at the Mudblood's chest. In that instant he caught Blaise looking curiously at him and when their eyes met the bastard smiled as though he was privy to some sort of secret. Draco quickly looked away.


	2. The Enigma of Draco Malfoy

Draco's mother was getting on his last nerve.

"I'm not a child in case you haven't noticed Mother, I'm perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."

Narcissa Malfoy waved her hand dismissively and ignored his griping.

He suddenly hissed as Madam Malkin pricked him yet again.

Threateningly he said, "Watch where you're sticking that pin will you?"

This entire day had proved to be trying for Draco. He didn't have time to be babysat, especially when he needed to pay old Borgin a visit. He stepped up to the mirror to take a look at his new robes. He had to admit they were nice, deﬁnitely worth having to endure Madam Malkin's wandering ﬁngers. As he was considering the ﬁt of the robes he glimpsed three ﬁgures in the reﬂection of the mirror.  _Brilliant._ It was just what he needed—the bloody golden trio come to ruin the day _. Princess Potter, the hand-me-down and… Theo's little bint._

"If you're wondering what the smell is Mother, a Mudblood just walked in," Draco drawled.

In an instant, Harry and Ron had their wands drawn and trained on him. He bit the inside of his cheek.  _My, my, quite the fan club she has._ He was also somewhat aware that Madam Malkin was fretting but Draco became distracted by Granger's black eye. He didn't think Nott would ﬁnd her so pretty now, especially not with that thing.

"Don't, honestly, it's not worth it," he heard her whisper to Potter and Weasley.

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school," Draco scoffed. "Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them ﬂowers."

"That's quite enough!" shrieked Madam Malkin. By Merlin, the woman's voice grated on his ears like a banshee. "Madam, please!"  _Wonderful, bloody well bring my mother into this, not like she coddles me enough._

Draco frowned at the scene before him, growing angrier within the seconds of it unfolding.

"So why not have a go?" Potter quipped. "They might be able to ﬁnd you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

Draco was seething. He lunged forward but stumbled over his new robes. Weasley started laughing.

"Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" he snarled, one snide comment away from hexing the both of them.

"It's all right, Draco," said his mother, holding him back by his shoulder. "I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius." Draco could tell Potter was itching to hex her. It was Granger, of course, that restrained him. Merlin forbid Weasley to ever be the one to keep a cool head. They stared at each other, incensed, when Madam Malkin, the crazy harpy, tried rolling Draco's left sleeve up.

"Ouch!" He bellowed. "Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother, I don't think I want these anymore."

Luckily, he'd pulled away in time but wasn't about to stick around for her to try again. He tugged the robes over his head as fast as he could, tossing them to the ground to lie in a heap. He started to leave, shouldering Weasley on his way out, his cheeks still burning with embarrassment at being laughed at by the likes of him. He held the door open for his mother and was surprised to hear the contempt behind her parting words to Granger.

"Now I know the kind of scum that shops here," she derided. He couldn't help glancing back at the Gryfﬁndor, stoic as ever, before following his mother out.

After a few minutes of walking in silence toward Twilﬁtt and Tatting's his mother abruptly stopped.

"What?" he asked, wondering whether she'd forgotten something at Madam Malkins.

"Son," she began seriously. "You needn't stoop to their level. It's inappropriate for a boy of your stature to even speak to these people."

"He insulted you, insulted father and that redheaded moron –"

"It's not Potter or Weasley of whom I speak of, it's the Mudblood."

"If I ever speak to her, it's only to insult her—"

"You're not to give her any more… special attention." Narcissa said severely. "Is that understood?"

Draco stood on the streets of Diagon Alley stunned. He was mortiﬁed as to what she was implying. She may as well have cast a  _Petriﬁcus Totalus_ on him.

"She's the same one you always speak of, isn't she? The one who scored perfect marks on her O.W.L's, a Gryfﬁndor Prefect … the one who struck you?"

"Mother," Draco choked. "I loathe her with every ﬁber of my being."

Narcissa's expression grew weary at the intensity of the declaration. She raised her hand and gently stroked her son's cheek.

"Yes, my darling, that's what worries me so," she sighed.

Draco's jaw clenched in anger. He was desperately trying to remain composed but the very idea of what she was insinuating sickened him. He took a deep breath and looked at her resolutely.

"I have an important errand to run, I'll return to the manor as soon as I'm done."

After placing a kiss on his mother's cheek he walked off in the direction of Borgin and Burkes. He had more important things to dwell on than his mother's mad musings on Hermione-Bloody-Granger.

* * *

Harry seemed nothing but obsessed with Draco Malfoy.

"Yes, I've already agreed it was ﬁshy, Harry," Hermione huffed with exasperation. She was growing impatient of having the same conversation over and over again. She couldn't seem to ﬁnd a moment's peace to read.

She'd been sitting on the window sill for no less than a minute with her new copy of Advanced Rune Translation when Harry had brought the subject up yet again. Hermione tried concentrating on the book in vain, constantly distracted by Harry's repetitive scrutiny of what they'd witnessed at Borgin and Burkes. She became apprehensive when Harry took it a step further and accused him of having taken the Dark Mark.

She toyed with the possibility of it being true but couldn't fathom the idea that an arrogant prat like Malfoy would be recruited as a Death Eater. Following that logic, why not Nott, or Crabbe, or Goyle? Hermione began to mull the events over. They'd run into Malfoy at Madam Malkins while she was sporting a black eye, which he had made fun of, no less, thank you, Fred and George, for your Nobel winning prize invention of the boxing telescope. Honestly! Things seemed to have escalated fast, especially when Mrs. Malfoy had emerged from behind a clothes rack. It was so fascinating how physically alike they looked. If she'd still been studying biology she'd be interested in identifying the genetic coding...  _Perhaps if I could get my hands on a strand of his hair…_ Hermione shook her head.  _Anyway_. Then Mrs. Malfoy and Harry were having it out and for a moment she thought she'd seen Malfoy cringe as his mother threatened to kill them. Then there was the spying-on-him part, which she wasn't entirely proud of, followed by the terriﬁcally bad idea of going into Borgin and Burkes with that awfully unconvincing cover story.

Still… he had blatantly threatened Mr. Borgin, warning him of his 'close friendship' with a sociopathic and murderous werewolf. Frankly, she couldn't even imagine Malfoy playing tea-party with a monster like Fenrir Greyback. She bit her lip making random guesses as to what it was he so desperately needed to ﬁx. All these questions rattled around left unanswered... and there lied the enigma of Draco Malfoy.

After going back and forth over everything, she came to the conclusion that she could only be certain of one thing.

Narcissa Malfoy truly did love her son.

* * *

Draco was seated in between Theo and Pansy at the Slytherin table amidst the ruckus of the start of term feast. He couldn't believe the nerve of Potter, trying to spy on him like that. He smirked in amusement remembering how he'd left the Boy-who-wouldn't-die. His smile turned though when he caught Blaise talking animatedly to Pansy.  _And Zabini_. Too smart for his own good, should learn to keep his mouth shut. Draco wished he could be rid of them both. Potter and Zabini. Might as well add Crabbe and Goyle to the list. They hadn't stopped gaping at him since the train ride. He probably shouldn't have said anything, especially with Potter's new interest in espionage. He'd have to be more careful from now on.

He was picking at his food, when he looked up and saw Potter walk down the Great Hall, his face covered in blood.  _Why in Merlin's name wasn't he back in London?_

He sat down next to Granger who, in a matter of seconds, had cleaned his face with the ﬂick of her wand. Draco clenched his teeth. The Mudblood seemed to know just about every bloody spell. He wondered whether perhaps Potter had only managed to survive so long because of her competence—though he'd never admit to anyone that he thought Granger was a competent witch. More than competent, actually. He glared as he watched her wince with concern for the wellbeing of her precious Potter. Draco began to grin malevolently as an idea came to him.

"Pansy," he smirked, drawing her attention away from Blaise. "Guess who I bumped into on the train."

She turned toward him but it was Crabbe who asked eagerly, "Who?"

He went on to tell the surrounding Slytherins what he'd done and was glad to see that, at least, if not anything, Potter's idiocy could never fail to elicit a laugh.


	3. Beginnings

Snape had certainly made himself at home in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Scanning the walls, Draco noticed he'd even gone as far as to hang art from his own private collection. Unable to look too long at the unsightly images he drew his attention to Severus who had begun introducing himself as the new D.A.D.A Professor. Draco felt a bit strange around Snape since he'd found out what his mother had gone and done. He was furious with her for interfering in his affairs and if he was being honest, he didn't really trust the man. He had always had a feeling that the wizard had reasons, unbeknownst to anyone, for the things he did. Until Draco knew who Snape's allegiance truly belonged to, he couldn't depend on him for anything.

"What's the use of non-verbal spells?" Severus asked the class. Granger's hand shot up almost immediately. It was obvious that he was reluctant to call upon her to answer. For the brightest witch of her age, she really could be stupid. They'd been sitting in Potions no more than ﬁve minutes and she'd already managed to get on Snape's nerves. She'd do better to sit there and be quiet, but the little swot just couldn't help herself. He sniggered.

"You will now divide into pairs", Snape went on. "One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

Draco and Theo only had to look at each other to agree to partner up. Nott turned out to be surprisingly good at casting the non-verbal shield charm but seemed to have difﬁculty casting a jinx without subconsciously mouthing the words. Ironically, in Draco's case, it was the exact opposite.

He glanced toward the others and to his chagrin, he saw that Granger had managed to silently repel Longbottom's jelly legs jinx. He didn't like how pleased she was with herself. Draco was just about to jinx Theo again when suddenly he heard someone shout  _Protego_ , followed by a loud crash. He turned around just in time to see Severus stand up and address Potter.

"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing non-verbal spells?"

"Yes," he replied stifﬂy.

"Yes.  _Sir_." Severus corrected.

"There's no need to call me Sir, Professor."

Everyone gasped. Even Draco found that Potter had reached new levels of stupidity. Granger, on the other hand, looked disappointed.

Draco almost smiled.  _How do you like your Precious Potter now?_

* * *

Potions had the potential to be very interesting this year. There were certain brews they were meant to learn that Draco thought would be useful for his special assignment. Polyjuice Potion, speciﬁcally. He had made it several times before but could appreciate further instruction from Professor Slughorn. His father had spoken a great deal of him and he'd even heard of his close personal acquaintances to famous witches and wizards. He didn't care all that much that he hadn't been invited to the Slugclub, but it annoyed him to think that he and Theo would be isolated just because of their family's association to the Dark Lord. Theo was very good at potions, actually. He probably would've liked to be invited.

Within ten minutes of sitting in class, however, Draco realized that he didn't think he would enjoy Potion's this year after all. As usual, Granger had known the answers to all of Slughorn's questions and he was rather impressed with her. He asked her if she was related to pureblood Hector Dagworth-Granger.

Draco leaned into Nott, " _Hector Dagworth-Granger?"_ he drawled. "The only Granger she's related to is a member of the London Dental Society and fortunately for her, her father was able to ﬁx her teeth." They both snickered.

Slughorn, to Malfoy's dismay, was grinning with a look of recognition. His eyes darted from Granger to Potter.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, "'One of my best friends is muggle born and she's the best in our year!'– I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke."

Draco paled. He watched the bushy-haired swot turn to Potter beaming, an expression he'd never seen on her before. Weasley, to Draco's surprise, seemed to be a little irritated, insisting that if he'd been asked, he would've said the same thing. Just what the bloody hell—

"Looks like Weasley's getting a bit riled up," Theo chortled. Draco looked at the Slytherin with a look of confusion. Nott's expression became apologetic. "Thought you knew. Weasel and Granger." Draco glanced back to the Gryfﬁndor table and watched them for a moment.

"But I thought Potter..." Theo was shaking his head.

"They had a ﬁght Fourth year, at the Yule Ball. Apparently, he'd been jealous of Krum. She went at him for not having asked her instead."

"I'll never understand why a Quidditch player like Krum would ask Granger to the Yule Ball," he frowned, remembering that particular surprise. Theo looked like he was trying not to laugh. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and then deciding against it, turned away. Draco wondered if he was about to have defended the little Mudblood. Maybe he had wanted to say that he understood why Krum had taken her to the Yule Ball, maybe he himself had wanted to ask her– her and her perfectly symmetrical breasts.

Disgusting.

Snidely Draco remarked, "You must've been devastated when you heard the Mudblood had already found a date."

Theo was quiet. He turned to Draco, watching him carefully as he coolly replied, "I also heard they snogged… twice."

The only reaction Draco gave away was the slight clenching and unclenching of his jaw. For a while, Draco just stared ahead in a daydream and only stirred to attention when the Professor started talking about Felix Felicis. A few moments later he was deeply absorbed in his Potions work brewing a Draught of Living Death.

* * *

The Slytherin common room was in an uproar that night. Crabbe had gotten his hands on some type of muggle alcohol during the course of the summer, which he insisted tasted the same as Gilly water. But Draco who was in no mood for noise, or any type of merriment slipped out to ﬁnd someplace quiet.

After wandering around for a while, he found a small alcove and sat in the shadows with his head bent back and his eyes closed. His ﬁrst two weeks at Hogwarts had been awful. Pansy had been very 'hands-on' with him lately and while he would usually invite that kind of thing it was beginning to cross certain boundaries he wasn't sure he wanted to cross with her. Last night she'd snuck into his bed and been quite suggestive.

Dear Merlin, he practically had to pry her off him.

He couldn't seem to concentrate on his classes very much and found everything he did utterly pointless. It wasn't as if he was ever going to sit his N.E.W.T.S or go on to become an Auror. He never even really thought about what he would do after Hogwarts, until now. Until he realized that he'd probably be killed. Either at the end of the Dark Lord's wand or Dumbledore's. He decided that the latter option was far better. But how could he possibly—

"Malfoy."

His eyes ﬂew open. He couldn't believe his luck. It was the swot.

"It's ten minutes till curfew," Granger said staring at him, evidently waiting for him to get up and make his way back to the Slytherin rooms. He stared back. "Well then," she said clearing her voice. "You better get going, you wouldn't want Filch to catch you."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her and said in a low mocking tone, "Why Granger, I didn't know you cared."

"I… I don't," she stuttered nervously.

"Now I'm wounded," he pouted in a mock tone. "How will I ever face life again knowing that the Mudblood doesn't care?"

Hermione's face became stony.

"Go to your room Malfoy or as Prefect, I'll make you."

Draco leaped up from his seat, a teasing smile playing on his lips but a menacing look in his eyes as he slowly circled around her.

" _You'll make me_?" he mocked, an eyebrow raised, as though she'd said something utterly ridiculous. For a moment he wondered if she would draw her wand on him. It was probably for the best not to find out. She was about to speak when he cut her off. "Y'know, it hardly seems fair. As Prefect I don't think you should be allowed to play favorites."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, she folded her arms in a particularly haughty way. "What are you talking about?"

"Well," said Draco, stepping forward. "We both know that  _Boy Wonder_ wouldn't even know the difference between ﬂuxweed and knotgrass, let alone be able to brew a perfect Draught of Living Death."

"I, well I don't—"

"He cheated."

Hermione looked torn. He could almost see her brain furiously at work.

After much hesitation, she scoffed, "Harry didn't cheat. You really shouldn't be such a spoilsport."

"You're lying," said Draco, losing his cool demeanor. "You're an awful liar."

"Am not!" cried Hermione in indignation. She swayed back a little as she realized Malfoy was looming over her. "And I'm not a bad liar either. You didn't know I was lying through my teeth to Umbridge last year when I tricked her to the Forbidden Forest."

"Of course I did," he scoffed. "I always know when you're lying!"

Hermione's breath hitched, her eyes dancing across his face. Draco wanted to suck his words back in but they were in the air between them now. He was extremely uncomfortable with the odd way she was looking at him and he needed it to stop.

"Don't worry Granger," he sneered, beginning to walk down the corridor. "You can add it to the list of things you can't quite manage to do, in between, riding a broom, and getting Weasley to invite you to the Yule Ball."


	4. You and All Your Gryffindor's

Ginny was sitting in a far corner of the library with Hermione, who was rather engrossed in a large book, surrounded by other larger looking books. She, on the other hand was absorbed in a Quidditch book, staring dreamily at pictures of players on their brooms, when she felt her friend's curious gaze on her.

"What are you doing?' Hermione asked.

Ginny smiled wickedly, turning the heavy hardcover toward Hermione so she could get a better look. "Let me introduce you to Maverick Gold, played Seeker for the Appleby Arrows. Doesn't he look like Harry?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No really, wait," she said standing up and moving to the chair right next to her. She began to ﬂip the pages again. "And this one, a little bit like Ron!" she laughed.

Hermione looked closely and smiled.

"He does look like Ron!" she beamed a warm glow of affection. "Except his name is Patrick Sky and if he were still alive he'd be 302-years-old. Think you're somehow related?" she asked Ginny teasingly.

Hermione nudged the book back toward her and began to put away her Arithmancy notes. Ginny resumed ﬂipping the pages of the Quidditch tome searching for more look-a-like's.

Her friend was just taking out new parchment for her Transﬁguration essay when suddenly she exclaimed, "Wait!"

Ginny froze mid-flip.

Hermione leaned in and turned a page back. "That looks like Malfoy," she said.

Ginny examined the image and conceded that it did, in fact, look like the Ferret.

"See the grey eyes," she pointed. "The marble skin, the sharp features and the…"

She trailed off when she caught Ginny looking at her strangely. "What?"

"Why are we checking out a guy who looks like Draco Malfoy?" asked Ginny.

"No," balked Hermione, closing the tome with a soft thud and moving it aside. "No, we're not."

"It feels a little like we are."

"No, it's just… it isn't like that, he's been on my mind is all— it's Harry's fault really! He's been on Malfoy's case, especially after what happened to Katie Bell. I was a little cross with him. He told Professor McGonagall that Malfoy was behind it all and it turns out that he was in detention with McGonagall herself that day for not having done his transﬁguration homework. He keeps rushing to conclusions without any evidence. You know how impulsive he is."

Ginny listened patiently to Hermione's rant. She took a little time to mull things over before responding. "Is that all then, I mean… is that the only reason he's been on your mind?"

Hermione took a deep breath and put her quill down. She began to ﬁddle with some parchment as if buying time to gather herself.

"I ran into him on one of my patrol's about two week's ago," she spoke, her voice quiet and secretive.

Ginny jumped from her seat. "Did he do something, are you ok?"

"Yes, no nothing!" her cheeks ﬂushed, pulling Ginny back down to her seat. "I guess it just didn't seem important—"

"And now it does?"

"Maybe, no, I don't know" she shrugged. "He was his usual awful self but it was…. strange."

"Tell me everything."

Hermione sat up as if she were about to make an important declaration, clearing her throat before she began. "I was patrolling the corridors when I found Malfoy sitting alone in one of the alcoves—

"Alone? That's odd."

"Yes, I told him that it was almost curfew but he refused to leave and then… he called me a Mudblood—"

"That prejudice arse! Seems like typical Malfoy behavior to me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ginny. "Will you let me ﬁnish!" she admonished.

The redhead pursed her lips apologetically.

"As I was saying," Hermione huffed. "I got angry and made it clear that as a Prefect I'd have to reinforce school rules. He said—and the cheek of him—that I played favorites, that I knew that Harry was cheating in Potions and hadn't batted an eye. Well, I lied of course and said he didn't. But then he said he knew I was lying, that I'm an awful liar and that he always knows when I'm lying," she snorted. "He claims to have known I was lying to Umbridge last year and well, then, he said… he said I could add it to the list of things I can't manage, including getting Ron to ask me to the Yule Ball."

Hermione was looking down at the table, clearly embarrassed to have brought Ron up. Ginny was, after all, his sister.

"I'm not sure Hermione," Ginny sighed. "I think he was just saying things to get under your skin."

"That's just it. He did get under my skin. He made me feel really guilty for having double standards for Harry and then guilty that I lied about lying and I don't even know where that comment about Ron came from. How did he ﬁnd out about Ron, and did he really know I was lying to Umbridge that day, and if he did, how did he know and why didn't he say anything?"

"Well—"

"So I told McGonagall that I'd help him complete the assignments he's failed to hand in," she clipped. "Apparently he's really suffering, academically."

Ginny's mouth fell open in shock. She stared at the bushy-haired girl as she coolly picked up her quill and started working on her homework – as if she hadn't just announced that she'd freely volunteered to help the Amazing Bouncing Ferret.

"Oh," she added, almost like an afterthought. "And you can't tell anyone, especially not Harry or Ron."

* * *

It was safe to say that McGonagall was not happy with Draco Malfoy. He'd not only failed to submit his Transﬁguration homework twice but when he'd ﬁnally gotten around to doing it, he'd done it so poorly that she said she'd rather have a conversation with a mountain troll than try to decipher the drivel he'd written. It was a low blow. Draco cheered up when she said she'd arranged for a 7th year to help him catch up. It was surprisingly nice of her, he thought.

Walking up to the third ﬂoor was tiring. He'd barely eaten or slept since he'd found out that Katie Bell was sent to St. Mungo's. Not only had he failed his mission but he had almost killed a girl he hardly knew in the process. Severus was on his case immediately.  _Was it you behind the necklace? What's your plan? You've been foolish—don't be foolish._ He knew Snape would lord this over his head forever, especially since he was the one to stop the curse from spreading and killing her.

Merlin! Just some girl who plays chaser on the Gryfﬁndor team. Didn't Goyle say they'd gone to the same summer school once? She'd shared her cauldron cakes with him.  _Goyle loves cauldron cake_.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. But it had to be done. It had to be!

Draco realized he'd been standing at the top landing of the third ﬂoor, staring into space, only to be woken when one of the nearby staircases started moving. Luckily, it was deserted. Otherwise, anyone watching would've thought he was a nutter. He leaned against the stone wall of the corridor for a moment, remembering Aunt Bella's training in Occlumency. He closed his eyes for a minute to breathe. When he opened them again, his expression was blank and unfeeling.

He located the classroom and opened the door. "Granger?"

Draco walked into the classroom to ﬁnd the Mudblood sitting at the teacher's desk, her face framed by the light falling into the dark room. Draco's eyes narrowed on her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he spat moving around to the back of the teacher's desk to where she was standing. He had a sinking feeling he already knew the answer to his question.  _McGonagall, the old bint!_

"I'm helping," she replied. And the little swot had written notes on the blackboard as if she was a bloody Professor.

This was the last thing he needed, in the middle of the maelstrom that had become his life–for Granger to play pretend and spy on him under Potter's orders. How many times did he have to break the wanker's nose? Draco was losing his patience.

Hermione let out a loud gasp as Malfoy's hands tightened like a vice around her upper arms.

"You're hurting me!" She whimpered.

He squeezed harder, his eyes boring into hers.

"The lengths to which Potter goes to, to invade my privacy is astounding. If he thinks he can spy on me using a little skirt like you, he's a lot dimmer than I've given him credit."

"That's not…" she ﬂushed. "I'm trying to–"

"Lie?" he offered.  _Merlin give him courage._  He'd kill her right here. The very thought of wrapping his hands around her dainty neck and... he was acutely aware of how close he was standing next to her. It was the second time in the last few weeks he'd caged her in like this.

"Harry doesn't even know I'm here," she told him plainly. "Promise."

A smile suddenly played on his lips as he released her. "Keeping secrets from Saint Potter, are we?" She rubbed her arms and he was sure he had left red handprints from where he had held onto her.  _Good._

"I don't let other people dictate my life, there's no need for me to ask permission."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, tilting his head scrutinizing her.

"I ﬁgure I owe you one since you didn't tell Umbridge I was lying last year."

Draco sighed. He knew he was drowning. He didn't want to be in a position where he owed Granger anything but he could really use help, in any form, especially coming from the Brightest Witch of Her Age. He dropped his bag decidedly onto the ﬂoor with a thud.

"Okay," he conceded. He sat down and leaned back in his chair with his arms folded. "I should tell you though that the only reason I didn't tell Umbridge, was because I realized you had lied too late and you'd already left."

She clearly hadn't expected that.

"Ok," she shrugged, trying not to look disappointed. "What gave me away?"

"I know what you're like Granger. Mark my words, you'd never give up information, not even under the  _Cruciatus Curse_ ," he drawled.

She scoffed at the conviction he had in his assumptions of her. "And what am I like Malfoy?"

"Brave," he sneered, revealing his distaste for the word, as he began to empty his bag setting out parchment, ink, and quill. "You and all your Gryfﬁndors."

"And the Slytherins would do what?" she scoffed, ﬂipping through the pages of her Transﬁguration notes. "Give each other up immediately?"

He was quiet for a long moment and when he ﬁnally spoke there was an unmistakable severity to his voice because he himself relied on the verity of the answer.

"No… we'd make sure we're not caught."


	5. Coming to Terms

When Draco entered the Slytherin common room, he found a few ﬁrst years in one corner laughing over a game of exploding snap, while in opposite armchairs by the ﬁreplace, Zabini and Nott were staring intently at a chess board. Pansy was laid out on the rug with her Herbology book opened. She looked tired and when she saw Draco, though she smiled, it seemed forced.

"Draco, nice of you to ﬁnally join us," Blaise drawled, his eyes never leaving the game.

"Where've you been?" asked Pansy, her tone a little reproachful.

"Pansy," snapped Draco in a stern manner. "I have more important things to do than answer your incessant questions."

Closing the book in a huff, she stomped off to the girl's dormitory, banging the door closed behind her.

"Little bit harsh Draco, she'd been waiting up for you," said Blaise with a frown. Draco narrowed his eyes at him. He was beginning to think that Zabini had a little soft spot for her. They'd been spending a lot more time together lately but maybe that was just because he was never around. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he fell length-wise on the couch. Just then the little ﬁrst year runts let out a raucous cheer.

"Get out!" Draco shouted at them. "Get. Out!"

They scurried to their dormitory, glancing at each other and back at the mean boy with frightened expressions. Putting his arm over his face Draco closed his eyes. Finally, some peace and quiet.

* * *

While Theo and Blaise had become accustomed to Draco's temper tantrums over the years, it had never been quite as bad, nor as frequent as this. The only other time they could remember Draco being this severe with Pansy was Fourth year, after they'd all returned from the Yule Ball. She had waited for almost everyone else to retire to their beds before unleashing her anger at Draco. Blaise and Theo, the only two boys who'd still been awake arguing over which Greengrass sister was prettier, had heard a commotion and gone to the door to eavesdrop.

_"What was that?" she screamed. "You were staring at her the whole night."_

_"Well_ _how could I not, she was with Victor Krum. It was revolting. I never thought he'd be a Mudblood lover, I mean how could he have asked her to the Ball? There's such a thing as propriety and what he did was so improper!"_

_"I can't believe it! You're jealous he was with the Mudblood, you're jealous that he asked her and you couldn't!"_

_Then there was an eerie silence and they couldn't hear what Draco was saying because when he spoke it was low and menacing, but whatever it was, it had scared Pansy into shutting up and to their knowledge she'd never brought it up again._

Blaise gave Theo a pointed look. The tall, wiry Slytherin stood and cast a  _Mufﬂiato_.

Draco started. "What's this?" he asked, sitting up straight.

The two boys looked at each other before asking, "Was it you?"

"Was what me?" he replied, his face expressionless.

"Katie Bell," hissed Blaise. "The necklace."

"Zabini, I had no idea you were thinking of accessorizing, may I suggest gold earrings to make your eyes sparkle?"

The dark boy scoffed. "Screw this," he said walking out.

Theo waited for Blaise to be out of earshot and asked again, "So was it?"

"Don't," he mumbled tiredly. "Just don't."

To Theo, Draco's answer was more or less a confession.

"Your mother wrote me," he said sitting down next to him. Draco's eyes narrowed questioningly. "She wants me to help you practice Occumulency."

Draco stood slowly. "Why the bloody hell would she want that?" he asked, exasperated. "I've already been trained."

Theo took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come next.

"She's scared he'll look inside and see the witch."

Theo had to give credit where credit was due. Draco was a master at control. He barely blinked. "What witch?"

"You're going to get yourself killed Draco," Theo rasped quietly forgetting he had cast a silencing charm.

"I have no idea what—"

"Merlin Draco, I've been your best friend since we were toddlers and—"

"Blaise is my best friend."

"That's a load of dragonshit! Blaise is a ﬁrst-class prick."

Draco pursed his lips; probably remembering second year when Zabini had tried to trick him into eating Doxy eggs.

"Fine," he conceded.

"You're going to listen to what I have to say."

"I don't have to d—

"Shut up!" he spat. His best friend was getting on his last nerve.

"You've always been spoiled Draco– your father saw to that. You would just throw a little tantrum and  _Accio,_ you had it. It's a terrible fucking thing, to have been handed everything except the one thing you're not even allowed to ask for. I don't need you to admit it to me, but it needs to stop."

"I serve the Dark Lord," he growled menacingly. "I took the Mark, I was chosen. Me! Above all others…"

"You could take the Dark Mark a hundred times over and you would still be obsessed with Hermione Granger."

"Just because you fantasize about the Mudblood Nott, doesn't mean everyone else does!"

Theo sighed, feeling weary. Draco who was furious started to leave.

"I hope that's the truth," he called to him before lifting the  _mufﬂiato._ "Because if your employer ﬁnds out, he'll kill her in front you."


	6. Golden Gifts

Hermione was sitting on her bed in a fit of laughter watching Ginny's impersonation of Ernie Macmillan.

"Honestly," Ginny laughed. "He's a bigger snob than Zabini!"

"I don't entirely mind him, he's funny without meaning to be," remarked Hermione.

Suddenly there was a loud thump against the glass startling the two girls. Ginny jumped out of bed.

"It's an owl," she said, opening the window. Hermione watched as a Great grey owl flew in and perched itself on the bedside table. Seeing that it had a small white envelope in its talons Ginny reached out to take it.

"Ouch!" she hissed, flinching. "Damn bird pecked me!"

Before Hermione could ask if she was alright, the owl swooped up, dropped the envelope onto her lap and flew back out the window. There was nothing written on it but Hermione could feel something inside. Ginny watched her open it with tentative hands. Her brow furrowed as she pulled out a piece of jewelry.

"It's a bracelet," said Hermione looking a little vexed. At that moment Parvati and Lavender walked in, giggling to themselves, most likely about a boy.

"What's that?" Lavender exclaimed with amusement.

Parvati grinned. "It's gorgeous," she said reaching to take it from Hermione.. "Give it here, let's have a look."

But as soon as the bracelet touched her skin, she released a loud yelp.

"Hermione, what the hell, that thing just burnt me!"

"Who sent it to you?" demanded Ginny.

"I wouldn't know, the envelope wasn't addressed," she muttered bewildered as she bent down to pick up the bracelet, which had fallen to the floor. On closer observation, Hermione discerned that it was primarily a thin gold chain with a small gold coin attached to it. "It's got a coin charm," she said dreamily.

Without giving it much thought, Hermione began to put it on.

"Don't!" interjected Parvati.

"She's right," Ginny added. "It might be dangerous."

But before anyone could say anything more, the bracelet encircled her wrist and clasped shut. All three girls stood gaping over Hermione, waiting for some dark curse to take hold of her.

"Nothing's happening," she shrugged holding up her wrist. The coin glinted, catching the light.

"Oh," Lavender sighed, sounding relieved with an underlying tone of disappointment. After fifteen minutes of arguing about who had sent it to her, and why, the Gryffindor girls went to their individual beds to sleep. The next morning Lavender announced, quite loudly over breakfast, that it must be a gift from Victor Krum.

* * *

Draco had arrived a little early for his last study session with Granger. He couldn't let the little Mudblood think he was an imbecile so he'd written the drafts carefully. In fact, he'd read them over so tediously that they were practically ready to be handed in. If this was just another year at Hogwarts' he wouldn't be in a position to need her bloody help, these things normally came so easily to him. Instead, he'd been expending most of his energy reflecting on the different ways he could kill Dumbledore or the different ways he could be killed.

He was in the middle of going over the work once more when she swept in, banging the door closed. He glanced up at her and then back down to the essay drafts.

"I don't think we have much to go over. It's pretty much done." He was met with stony silence. He glanced up again and found that she was suddenly standing right in front of him, her hands on her hips, her eyes raging.

"Just what the hell is this?" she asked, jutting out her wrist with the gold coin dangling beneath.

"It's the bracelet I sent you," Draco replied looking at her like she was rather dim-witted.

"I know what is it Malfoy! You can imagine my surprise while in the shower the coin became hot and there was a message—  _Today, not tomorrow_. You can't just send me a bracelet by owl!"

"How else was I supposed to tell you when to meet, march up to the Gryffindor tower and ask to see you?"

"That's another thing, you can't just demand to meet whenever you want—"

"Oh please," he sneered. "Like you have better things to do."

She clasped her hands in front of her face as if in prayer and breathing deeply she regarded him.

"Everyone has been pressing me to tell them who gave me such a beautiful and expensive bracelet. Ron thinks it's a gift from Krum—"

"Poor, poor Weasley," Draco smirked. "Can't even afford new robes let alone a gold bracelet. It must be killing him. I wonder…" he drawled leaning forward. "If he knows you were slagging it with the Bulgarian. Maybe he thinks the bracelet is a form of payment."

"You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" she shouted, her wand drawn. Draco having anticipated her reaction had his out too, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. As much fun as a duel seemed he thought it would be best avoided.

"Alright then Granger, I'll make this easy for you," he offered, lowering his wand and placing it on the table. He knew she'd never hex him while he was unarmed. Stretching his arm out, palm open, he said, "Just give it back."

She blinked at him.

"No."

His eyes flashed. " _No?_ "

"Think of it as a form of payment."

Draco's cheeks reddened at the innuendo. She was savoring his discomfort.

"Then let's sit down and finish the work. I don't want to have to look at your bushy head any longer than I already have to."

A few minutes later Granger was seated calmly reading over the answer to the essay questions. Draco felt restless waiting for her to finish. Could the witch read any slower?

After what seemed like a long time, she pronounced, "It's perfect!" And she was smiling. "Really, I would hand it in, as is."

He bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes dancing over her face, and he didn't know why but it just slipped out, "So you like the bracelet?"

She glanced away and began arranging the parchments.

"It's like the protean-charmed coins you charmed last year, except I embellished a little," Draco continued. He should stop talking. "If anyone else tries to take it—"

"I know," she interjected. "Parvati tried. It's impressive magic."

Blushing, Draco realized there was no reason for him to still be sitting in this room with her. He began to gather his things which took him two seconds and then he was standing up.

"Where do you think you're going?" Granger asked.

"We're done here aren't we?"

She flushed, and in a small voice said, "You promised you'd teach me the bird charm."

He blinked.

"Oh, right, okay."

"Okay," she echoed, surprised and anxious. She stood, taking her wand out of her robes.

He dropped his bag and took out his.

"Watch closely," said Draco. He pointed his wand up and with a murmur so soft he said, " _Avis Luteus"_ His hand weaving and sweeping.

"The spell is  _A-vis Lu-te-us_ ," he repeated.

" _Avis Luteus_ ," she muttered. " _Avis Luteus_. Ok." She raised her wand and tried to perform the spell. She tried several times but she was still unable to conjure anything.

"It's not working," she huffed in frustration.

"Your wand movement is all wrong. Relax your wrist," he sighed. "No—like this."

He stood behind her and covered her wand hand with his.

"Say the spell," he breathed.

" _Avis Luteus,"_ she whispered while his hand guided hers in a sinuous gesture. Slowly, seemingly out of thin air, sprays of golden-yellow dust appeared, dancing in mid-air, till they clustered together to form the shape of a yellow bird.

"That's it. You have it," whispered Draco. She was watching mesmerized as more birds took shape and began to fly in circles overhead. He was impressed by how quickly she learned the spell. He swallowed, feeling the heat of her on him. He could smell gardenias. Releasing her hand, he stepped back. There was a sick knot in his stomach and he tasted bile rise up his throat.

She turned back and beamed at him.


	7. Bitter Disappointments

The last few days had been surreal. Hermione had offered to help Malfoy to satiate her curiosity. She had wanted answers and instead, she'd only been confronted with more questions. He'd taught her the bird charm, and if she were being honest, she never believed he would. She thought she'd receive a sneer or a mock remark but he'd surprised her.

Then she'd succeeded in conjuring them and it was such beautiful, delicate magic that she couldn't help but smile.

And it had been a mistake, that smile. It had been a mistake to allow herself to be happy around Draco Malfoy; to gaze at him with absolute joy, and to have him know that he'd given it to her.

Because where there was Malfoy there also followed bitter disappointment.

She'd smiled and something flashed in his eyes, something so cruel and cold. Something so frightening. Her smile had faded and for a moment she could swear by the reddening of his eyes that he was about to cry.

_Not bad for a Mudblood whore._

Then he left.

She wasn't angry with him. She hated him, had wanted to tear at him, slap him, hurt him. Those feelings worried her.

And then there was the bracelet, that was just a bracelet, except it felt, when she wore it, the weight of a secret.

Ron was angry with her without admitting as much. For what reason she could only assume was because he believed it to be a gift from Krum. The truth wouldn't have served her. She didn't know what to do. He was barely speaking to her and when he did, it was only to insult or demean her. And still, his jealousy gave her hope that he had feelings for her, wanted her even. She hated and welcomed it.

Last night Hermione had gotten so upset with Ron, she'd stormed out of the common room on the verge of tears. Curling up in bed, drawing her knees and arms in tight, the bracelet pressed against her chest, she felt a calm energy wash over. After a few minutes of allowing it to comfort her, she began tracing it with her fingers, the chain, the round edge, the smooth coin, over and over. There was a sort of magical signature, like a magnetic attraction and repulsion. Malfoy's magic. She fell asleep with it still on and found it humming near her lips this morning.

She got ready for the day in a dreamlike state. Had she even slept?  _Oh no_ , she thought, as she entered the common room, she'd been so caught up in herself that she'd failed to realize that today was the Quidditch match against Slytherin.

* * *

Urquhart, the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team was in the worst mood. Exasperated, with the current situation, he pressed Draco, "You're sure you can't play? Even Vaisey's out! That Bludger he took to the head yesterday still has him in the Hospital Wing."

"I don't decide when to get ill Urquhart," Draco shrugged, sitting at the edge of his bed. "But don't worry, Harper's already agreed to sub."

Glancing back over his shoulder at Harper, who was beginning to get ready for the game against Gryffindor, he said in a low voice, "Between us, I would've preferred to have you play."

"Me too," Draco deadpanned. A grimace adorned his face at the very thought of Potter winning the cup as Quidditch Captain. Urquhart shook his head in disbelief and left muttering something about, of all the luck.

Already in his Quidditch attire, Blaise was leaning again his bedpost with his hands folded, staring intently at him.

"You're seriously not going to play?"

Draco returned his gaze but didn't respond.

"You're letting everyone down," he continued. "We need you, especially with Vaisey—"

"Lay off Blaise," Theo interjected stepping forward between them. "If he says he's not feeling well–he's not feeling well."

"I see how it is with you two," Blaise scowled, eyes darting between his friends. "I don't have a daddy in Azkaban so I'm being singled out."

"Watch your mouth Zabini!" Draco growled, standing up. And apparently, he'd stood up too fast because he blinked and there were black spots and he had to hold onto the bedpost to keep from falling.

"For the love of Merlin," Blaise spat. "We'll have to start spoon-feeding you."

"Fuck off!" yelled Draco. "Just fuck off!"

Shaking his head in the same manner as Urquhart, Blaise left.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Theo sighed in exasperation. "Come on, let's find you something to eat."

Draco was grateful to Theo. Grateful that he hadn't sided with Blaise, despite knowing he was right; grateful that once he'd walked Draco to the Great Hall and placed some food in front of him, he'd left, instead of watching over him like a hawk.

Sitting alone, he nibbled on a slice of plain toast. Eating had become such a grueling task; the ashen taste of everything, the forced effort of chewing, the sickening act of swallowing. He dropped the bread and looked at his plate despairingly. Upon hearing footsteps approaching he looked up.

"Pans."

"Hey you," she said sitting down next to him. "I heard you weren't feeling well." Draco nodded and for once he wasn't exaggerating or faking it. She reached for his hand and he let her take it. He gave her a small smile. Pansy's eyes were glistening. There was something so sad and resolute about the way she was looking at him. "You know Slughorn is having a Christmas party," she asked softly. "Right?"

"Yeah, for the Slug Club," replied Draco.

She began fiddling with the hem of her robe, her eyes downcast and her black hair falling into her dark eyes. "Blaise asked me to be his date and I said yes."

He looked back down at his unfinished toast. "Blaise?" repeated Draco, as if he'd never heard the name. He felt the warmth from her hand leave his as she let go.

"I know it's not the right time to be doing this, but there never seems to be with you."

Draco felt something stick in his throat. He tried to swallow and it hurt. Pansy was leaving him. He swallowed again and his eyes burnt. Pansy, who had always coddled him, who looked up to him, consoled him, kissed him, touched him… loved him. She was leaving. He couldn't breathe. He closed his eyes. Inhale. Count to three. Exhale. When he opened them again she was wiping tears from her cheeks. He knew there was nothing he could say. She stood up.

"Hermione Granger's going too," She smiled weakly. "Maybe… maybe I'll lend her my gold dress to match her new bracelet."

Draco watched her walk away.


	8. Filthy

Hermione was lingering outside the Gryffindor changing rooms in a state of agitation. She loved Harry and Ron, she understood how much Quidditch meant to them and the strong rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but, she just couldn't let this go. What Harry had done had been illegal! She waited till the rest of the team had left to enter the changing rooms. She was so nervous that she couldn't stop pulling at the wool of her scarf.

"I want a word with you, Harry," said Hermione taking a deep breath. "You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, its illegal."

Before she could say more, Ron was attacking her, daring her to turn them in, when, to their utter shock, Harry revealed that he'd only pretended to slip Felix Felicis into Ron's pumpkin juice. Why would Harry trick her like that—

 _"You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything!"_ Ron rounded on her in mock imitation. "See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"

"I never said you couldn't," she tried to explain. "Ron, you thought you'd been given it too!"

But he was already striding past her out the door with his broomstick over his shoulder.

Hermione was too upset to join Harry when he suggested she come with him to celebrate their victory in the common room. She found herself wandering the castle aimlessly, trying to understand what egregious error she'd committed. Deciding that she really ought to just make peace with him instead of roaming the corridors like Nearly Headless Nick, she made her way to Gryffindor Tower.

Upon entering the common room, it seemed as if everyone was caught in a victorious rapture. She smiled as she watched a desperate Harry succeed in escaping the clutches of Romilda Vane. Then she spotted Ginny, which wasn't at all difficult considering her flaming red hair and the way she carried Arnold, the Pygmy Puff on her shoulder. She began to make her way through the riotous crowd but stopped short when she realized they were both staring at something. She followed the direction of their gaze to find Ron in a lip lock with Lavender Brown. Her blood froze, a wave of nausea caused her stomach to twist and she thought she might be sick. He had her wrapped around him so tightly and his hands were…

She ran out of the common room as fast as she could.

Entering an empty classroom nearby she sat down. She had to do something–anything to distract her from what she'd just witnessed. She feared she'd fall apart. Taking out her wand from her robes with a shaking hand she cast the Avis charm. A flock of little yellow birds appeared and as Hermione stared at them circling above her head she was overcome with a pang of crushing sadness. Ron had overlooked her,  _again_. He'd hurt her,  _again_. Hadn't she made her feelings for him obvious? She had even invited him to Slughorn's Christmas Party and he'd said yes. Was it her, was it her fault?

_Slagging it with the Bulgarian… Mudblood whore._

Suddenly the door opened.

It was Harry.

"Hermione?"

"Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."

"Yeah… they're, er—"

"Harry," muttered Hermione. "Why doesn't Ron want me?"

Harry's eyes widened. Hearing the question out loud sounded far worse than the way it did in her head and she blushed a little at its bluntness.

"I- I'm not sure," he stumbled. "How do you know he doesn't?"

"He's had so many chances and he's never even—"

At that very moment, the door behind them burst open and there was Ron in tow with none other than Lavender Brown.

"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of them. Hermione slid off the desk just as Lavender backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

The sick feeling was back and it was rising like bile up her throat.

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly, walking toward the door. "She'll wonder where you've gone."

Then as she reached the door she was overcome with a woeful fury.

"Oppugno!" She shrieked. The little flock of birds sped down on him like a hail of golden bullets and she reveled in the sight of them pecking and clawing every bit of flesh they could reach.

Wrenching the door open, she ran out, tears streaking down her face, toward the astronomy tower.

* * *

Hermione was trudging up the dark spiral stairs to the Astronomy Tower, her cheeks blotchy and wet from crying. As she was reaching the door which led to the landing, it swung open. Her breath hitched. Malfoy stiffened as he saw her. She thought the moonlight made him look deathly pale.

They stared at one another. It felt like forever.

Then she remembered.

_Not bad for a Mudblood whore._

She tore her eyes away and pressed her body against one side of the stairway to let him pass.

He blinked. Wordlessly descending.

She began walking up, brushing past him when suddenly he stuck his arm out to block her.

"Wait."

He seemed hesitant, unwilling.

But she didn't want to wait, not while he was this close. Not while he was this warm. Then he said something that made her blood run cold.

"I need it back." He was looking at her wrist. She snatched her hand from the railing and tucked her arms into her chest, covering the bracelet with her other hand.

No, he can't. He just can't.

He stepped into her, his body unmoving against hers. "I'm not asking."

She looked into eyes, like storm clouds. His breath fell on her.

She didn't know what possessed her.

"Over my dead body Malfoy." And she wondered if he'd draw his wand.

"Why do you even want it?" he asked, his jaw clenching, his nostrils flaring.

It was the last thing she was expecting, not even a question she'd asked herself.

Her mouth was dry. His eyes danced over her face. She imagined she looked a mess.

"I don't know," Hermione choked. Her eyes brimming with new tears. "I don't…"

"Fine!" she snapped, her hand shaking trying to unclasp the lock. It was delicate and hard to remove.

"Stop," he grabbed her wrist. "Stop crying."

She hadn't realized she was.

Then she was trembling. His fingers were stroking her pulse. What was he doing? They were brushing goosebumps up her arm.

She gasped. They were tracing her collarbone. She thought she'd throw up her heart.

"You really are filthy," he whispered, his thumb wiping away a tear.

Then his eyelids fluttered closed, letting his hand fall to his side.

She only started to breathe when he'd reached the bottom landing.


	9. Thank you Hermione Granger

Blaise was sitting in the dark, by the low light of the ﬁreplace in the Slytherin common room. He had a glass of Crabbe's muggle alcohol in hand. It was disgusting stuff but he needed to take the edge off the hellish day he'd had. It was past curfew and Draco still hadn't returned to the dungeons. Blaise had refused Theo's offer to wait up with him. He could tell that his friend was worried about how Draco would react to the news of him and Pansy. Blaise was a little worried too but this was a confrontation he needed to have without Nott. He looked at the clock again, it was half an hour to midnight. He drained his third glass. Where the—

He heard the stone wall shift. Draco emerged through. Blaise wanted to ask where he'd been but knew better than to ask any questions these days. Gone was the boastful and arrogant wizard and in his place was this other Draco, a quiet shadow of the former. The blonde stopped short when he saw that not everyone was asleep.

"Malfoy, I've been waiting."

"For what?" he asked as though he hadn't a clue. "Pansy told me she spoke to you."

"And?"

"We should talk don't you think?

"Not necessary Zabini," he clipped trying to walk past him.

Blaise took hold of Draco's shoulder. "I should have told you Draco… sometimes, because of the way I am, because of the way you are, I forget we're actually friends–apologies–I think I'm a little inebriated–but, you understand. Don't you? I had to chance it."

"Zabini, really—"

"You and Pans have always had this thing," Blaise interrupted, in a rush to get everything off his chest. "So I buried it, but after a while, I just couldn't pretend it wasn't there anymore. There's only so much a person can fake." At that Draco's eyes snapped to his and he almost seemed a little fearful.

"Malfoy, you alright?"

"Yeah…" he replied but he sounded like he was far away. Blaise's shoulders sagged in relief.

"Alright well I'm off to bed," he smiled drunkenly, patting his friend on the back.

He was walking, or perhaps he was swaying, toward the boy's dormitory when suddenly Draco called to him. He turned around.

"When did you stop pretending?" Blaise shrugged.

"Suppose when it started to hurt." Then he bit out a sharp laugh. "I have a feeling I'll have a headache tomorrow…. Night." he saluted Draco, who for some reason looked to be a little on the glum side. That, he thought to himself, as he crawled into bed, went swimmingly. Good bloke that Malfoy.

He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Draco was in the library reading up on Vanishing Cabinets yet again. His desperation was beginning to mount. He was re-reading a passage from a certain book hoping he'd missed something when he caught a

glimpse of Granger between the shelves. To anyone else, he looked to be browsing for a book but his feet were moving him, like a wizard possessed, toward her. Maybe he could just... Then the table she was seated at came into full view and he grimaced as he saw that Potter was sitting next to her whispering something into her ear. He bit his cheek wondering what it was Saint Potter was telling her.  _You're the best in our year. Smartest witch of our age._ Ugh. Revolting. He walked over quietly to a stack of shelves behind them and edged closer trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. He would wait till Saint Potter left and then—

"Well, just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business," he heard Granger warn Potter. Romilda Vane was after Potter with a love potion? Was there no female in Hogwarts that wasn't after him? Draco fumed. There was the sound of a quill scratching against parchment. He bit his lip willing his feet to be quiet as he moved right behind them. He listened.

"Yeah, well, never mind that," Potter was saying. "The point is, Filch is being fooled, isn't he? These girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else! So why couldn't Malfoy have brought the necklace into the school —?"

"Oh, Harry… not that again…"

Draco clenched his jaw. Potter suspected him. Of course, Potter suspected him. He had opened his big fat stupid mouth on the train. Might as well have put it in the Daily Prophet– wait, what was Granger saying?

"…something's that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register. Anyway Love potions aren't dark or dangerous so it would be down to Filch to realize it wasn't a cough potion, and he's not a very good wizard, I doubt he can tell one potion from—

_Fuck._

Drawn to the conversation he had inadvertently stepped forward and made a noise. Draco backed away and quickly made his way out of the library because he had just been given a marvelous idea.

Poison. He could smuggle in poison.

_Thank you, Hermione Granger._

* * *

Inviting Cormac McLaggen to Slughorn's Christmas party had been a terrible mistake. Her thirst for vengeance had come at a dear price, or more speciﬁcally a snog. Kissing a dementor would've been more enjoyable. Thankfully she'd managed to escape and found Harry and Luna. Harry had been whizzed away by Slughorn and she was left sipping on her goblet, listening to Luna, who was telling her all about Rufus Scrimgeour being a vampire. Holding her tongue back she nodded along feigning interest.

She was at breaking point when she heard someone clear their voice from behind her. "Hello Pansy," Luna grinned. "What a beautiful dress."

Parkinson's cool façade faltered for a moment.

"Thank you," she stuttered. Hermione gave her an uneasy smile, weary of the way the other girl was looking at her. "You both look…" she paused searching for a word. "Nice."

Looking up at the fairy lights, Luna remarked, "I saw you with Blaise Zabini."

"Yes," she blushed. "He invited me." Hermione's brow furrowed. She had thought Pansy and Malfoy—

"He's a very handsome wizard isn't he?" Luna said dreamily. Hermione, who was still a little stunned to be within earshot of Pansy Parkinson without being insulted, could only nod in agreement.

"I think so," the Slytherin girl replied with smug pride as though she alone were responsible for Blaise's good looks. Hermione took a large gulp of her mead. "Granger, that's a lovely bracelet you're wearing."

Luna grinned, "A token of affection from Victor Krum, I believe, although I do think—"

"Victor Krum?" Pansy clipped. "Really–it's funny because–see, I don't recognize the charm, but the chain, well it looks identical to the love bracelet Narcissa Malfoy wears, it's crafted using the golden hairs from a unicorn foal."

Hermione stopped breathing. Her mouth had fallen open. "Cost a fortune, I imagine," she continued.

"That's fascinating!" Luna mused.

The dark haired girl, looking pointedly at Hermione over the rim of her goblet, hummed, "Isn't it?"

"I wonder if you could do something similar using Thestral hairs," Luna said in wonderment. "Although you'd have to be able to see them ﬁrst…"

Pansy frowned at the bizarre suggestion. "Well, I better get back to Blaise," she said with a tight smile. Giving Hermione one last long look before disappearing into the throng of people.

Luna was speaking but she couldn't hear her. Hermione's mind was racing. The air was stiﬂing.

It hadn't been a gift. It was just something he had sent her to be able to communicate with her without anyone else knowing. Probably so no one would ﬁnd out he was getting help from a  _Mudblood_. It was just to tell her he'd have to meet her on a different day to ﬁnish the Transﬁguration essay. Then she'd kept it without giving it back. He'd even asked for it back and she'd refused. Although there was that moment in the dark stairway of the Astronomy Tower where he'd... No! No, no, no. Draco Malfoy wouldn't give her a love bracelet. He hated her.

She excused herself and then went after Parkinson. She couldn't have her thinking what she was currently thinking.

"Wait," she said catching hold of the Slytherin girl near the drinks table. "I think there's been a real, big, mix- up."

"Oh?" she asked amusedly as Hermione sidled close to whisper.

"Yes, I think, well you see," Hermione was rambling. "It's actually, well, what happened was, there was this owl and um–Malfoy doesn't love me." Pansy was wearing a blank expression on her face, the polite and calm demeanor she'd been exuding minutes before was gone. Hermione hadn't meant to blurt it out like that but she was in such a ﬂuster. "Really, he—"

"It may not be love, but it's just as dangerous. You'll ruin him," she muttered walking off. " _You'll ruin him._ "


	10. Tergeo

As a child, Draco loved Christmas; the snow, the food, the gifts, the merriment within the walls of the castle. But this year he was numb to the season. He took no joy in seeing the large decorated trees, nor the ﬂoating candlelights, or the holly and tinsel and mistletoe. These things, to him, were cold hands clutching at the heart of another life.

He had listed his latest achievements.; he'd imperiused an innocent woman, he'd tried to kill a very old man, he had almost killed a young girl and just in the last twenty-four hours had decided to try his luck with poison.

Meanwhile, his father was sitting in a cell in Azkaban, while his mother was alone, hostage, to the Dark Lord.

The sounds of raucous laughter and music echoed throughout the corridors of Hogwarts. Draco could hear the festivities as he was making his way toward the Room of Requirement. Propelled there by his nightmares and by the Dark Mark which had begun to burn.

He had left the Slytherin common room a little while after Blaise and Pansy had left for Slughorn's party. Theo, who was with the Greengrass sisters, was in the middle of a rather vicious tournament of exploding snap where the loser had to take a drink of Firewhiskey. It was easy for Draco to slip out unnoticed; the only problem was that Crabbe and Goyle had been given detention tonight. He wasn't particularly worried about needing them though, he ﬁgured everyone would be busy at the party.

He was wrong.

"Oh dear," smiled Argus Filch with wicked glee. "We are in trouble." "I was just on my way to Slughorn's Christmas party," he lied quickly.

Grinning, he tugged roughly on Draco's ear and said, "Let me escort you then."

"Let go of me squib!" he yelled, knowing the caretaker was on to him. Much to Draco's embarrassment, he was dragged to the party and outed in front of all the other guests, including Snape.

"All right, I wasn't invited!" admitted Draco, pulling himself free of Filch's grip. He was furious with the damn squib for having caught him. "I was trying to gate crash," he lied. "Happy?"

"No, I'm not!" said Filch, who was looking extremely pleased. Draco saw the caretakers face fall when Slughorn, who had gotten into the Christmas spirit—or just the spirits—waved it all off and said he could stay.

_Brilliant, just bloody brilliant._

"Thank you, Professor," smiled Draco with as much feeling as he could fake. He did not want to be here. He had to get back to the cabinet.

"It's nothing, nothing," Slughorn said waving away his thanks. "I did know your grandfather, after all…"

As Draco was replying, he spotted, from the far corner of his eye, Pansy, and… "He always spoke very highly of you, sir—" … was that Granger she was speaking to? "—Said you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known."

He saw Pansy stride off. Granger was looking faint.

_Fuck._

"I'd like a word with you, Draco," Snape said suddenly.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

He followed Snape out wordlessly, ignoring the swelling ache spreading through his left forearm.

He didn't know how much more he could take.

* * *

Hermione watched Pansy walk away. Slughorn's ofﬁce was beginning to feel small and suffocating. She ran outside unable to think with all the fairy lights and noise. Her Gryfﬁndor bravery was failing her and she couldn't face going back inside. She was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming need to speak to Draco Malfoy if only to hear the word Mudblood spat disdainfully from his lips.

She thought about sending him a message, asking him to meet her using the Protean-charmed coin on her bracelet but then put that idea aside for a better one.

As she walked through the portrait of the Fat Lady, she cast a disillusionment charm on herself. Opening the door to the boy's dormitory without any repercussions, she was thankful that they didn't have the same spells placed on theirs.

Everyone seemed to either be at the party or fast asleep. She tip-toed to Harry's trunk where he kept the Marauders Map.  _Accio Marauders Map._ The map ﬂew into her hand. She folded the map and left in a hurry. It's not as if Harry would miss it. Besides she'd return it tomorrow.

Stepping out into the corridor she held her wand to it.  _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good…_ Oh, how true that statement was right now. She searched for Malfoy. That's odd. She thought she'd ﬁnd him in the Slytherin common room but he was in the boy's bathroom.  _Mischief managed._

As she neared the bathroom, she decided it'd be best to remove the disillusionment charm. She didn't want to get hexed by a startled Malfoy.

Hermione took a steadying breath.  _I'm not afraid_ , she told herself.  _I'm not afraid_.

The door was left slightly ajar. As she pushed it open Hermione found Malfoy on the ﬂoor, leaning against the bathroom wall with his head in his hands crying. Moaning Myrtle, who was ﬂoating near him, saw her ﬁrst.

"Something's wrong, but he won't tell me," she whined.

His head snapped up, his wand drawn pointing straight at her. She instinctively stepped back and raised her hands as if he was holding a loaded gun.

Draco sniffed, his eyes red and his cheeks wet. He didn't look threatening, he looked pathetic. She slowly lowered her arms.

Despite all the horrible things he'd said to her, she couldn't help but pity him. She thought back to what she'd heard Dumbledore say to Mrs. Weasley. She supposed it  _was_ easier to forgive others for being wrong and Malfoy was wrong. Everything about him was wrong.

Now, more than ever.

"Myrtle, is it alright if you give us a little space?" asked Hermione in a quiet whisper that made the ghost leave without so much as a wail.

She stepped forward and knelt down in front of him. The tip of his wand almost touching the tip of her nose. Draco was watching her movements fearfully.

She raised her hand and gently lowered his wand to the ground. He allowed it.

"Draco," she whispered. "What's wr—" Hermione's words died on her lips. The left sleeve of his white shirt was splotched with blood. She knew, without asking, without needing to wonder, in her gut, what it was. His eyes followed her gaze and rested there, letting the truth lie between them.

Hermione pursed her lips and put her hand in her robes to take out her wand. Draco ﬂinched and had his pointing at her again. She visibly swallowed, slowly retracting her hand from the warm folds.

Pointing to his sleeve she cast,  _Tergeo._

Then he was crying again, a slow trail of tears.

She moved to sit next to him, leaving a space between them. She didn't know how much time passed just sitting there. After a while he wiped his face quickly, evidently embarrassed, and Hermione couldn't imagine how in the middle of all of this he could be worried about how he looked. Then he stood up and offered his hand to her. She took it.

They walked back in complete silence and she was frightfully aware that they were still holding hands. It was strange but she was scared to let go. Then they came to a crossroads. She needed to go up to the Tower and he needed to go down to the dungeons. Neither able to follow the other.

She watched as he took her wrist, the one wrapped in thin gold chain and brushed his lips against it. He raised his eyes and his grey-blue irises bore into hers.

"Goodnight Hermione," he said.

"Goodnight Draco."


	11. Check-in at Azkaban

Since the return of the Dark Lord and the departure of the dementors from Azkaban, security measures had doubled and wards were strengthened two-fold. So when Narcissa Malfoy went to visit her husband, which she was allowed to do by law, once a month, she was forced to undergo a series of tedious screenings: a short interview under Veritaserum, scans for dark magic, a body check– entirely demeaning of her person– and an inspection and temporary conﬁscation of her wand.

As she waited for Lucius in the dingy room she wondered how he would react to the missing galleons from their Gringott's vault and what he'd do when he learned how it was spent. Looking around the small space, she couldn't help but cringe. What crude furnishings, she thought, how hard could it be to decorate for Merlin sake. Don't see why visitors should be tormented as well. The door to the room clicked opened and her poor frail husband was escorted in by a guard.

"You have twenty minutes," he said.

Narcissa watched the door close behind them with a heavy thud and threw herself at Lucius with less poise than she usually had. He slowly disentangled himself and pulled out a chair for her on the opposite side of the table.

"Cissa," he greeted, offering his open palm to her. She placed her hand in his squeezing hard. It broke her heart to see him like this. So…  _ungroomed_. He really must be suffering. She'd rarely ever seen Lucius without a clean shave, except for when they summered in the Caribbean's before Draco was born, that was a strange time.

She tried to smile but found she couldn't. "I know, I look dreadful."

"You are as handsome as the day I ﬁrst met you," she whispered. He took her other hand in his and kissed them both in a loving gesture. Her eyes stung. She had never cried in front of Lucius and she wasn't going to start now. She let go, clearing her throat and adjusted herself on the metal contraception they considered a seat. "I have something important to discuss with you. It concerns our son."

"Oh."

"I just recently discovered a small, yet considerable sum missing from the Gringotts vault and I checked with

—"

"I authorized the withdrawal."

Narcissa was surprised. "Whatever for?"

"Draco said it was imperative that the Slytherin Quidditch team have new broomsticks."

" _Broomsticks?"_ she asked disbelievingly. So Draco had lied to his father about why he wanted the money. Well, this wouldn't end well.

 _"_ Yes, apparently there's a new model out."

 _"_ I can assure you that what your son purchased had nothing to do with his love for Quidditch or his team. He custom ordered a bracelet from Laurel & Moons," said Narcissa curtly. "Almost identical to the one you bought me. Laurel herself conﬁrmed this."

Her husband looked sheepish.

"Hmmm... I suppose he's ﬁnally making his intentions with the Parkinson's daughter clear." "If I didn't know any better I would say you aren't altogether surprised. Did you know?" "Know what?"

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, I am not one of your ministry toads who you can slither around!"

"Alright, alright!" he conceded. "I did give Draco the money. How could I say no, what father would I be to deny him something I could give him when I have failed him so miserably…"

"How could you think he wanted broomsticks, at a time like this, with everything he's had to take on?"

"I had a feeling he was lying, I thought he wanted it for  _nefarious reasons_ , but I didn't believe it would be for jewelry, for Merlin's sake! It was only much later that Mr. Moons wrote me to say that while he was happy to craft the bracelet, as a ﬁnal thank you for our long-standing patronage, he will no longer be able to offer his services to us."

Her face fell. "Mr. Moons said that, really?"

"It is fair, in light of everything…"

But we're all old friends, she thought sadly looking at the rusty table. We attended the opening of Laurel & Moons, Laurel used to bring Cauldron Cakes for tea… "Cissa"

"They were at our wedding," she whispered sadly.

"You will never know how sorry I am."

"Well, you'll be sorrier when you hear who I believe Draco gave the bracelet to—"

"I know," he frowned. "Must be that Mudblood girl who's always with Potter and the Weasley's." "H-how did you… how could you let something like this happen?"

"I thought it was merely a passing curiosity, how was I to know—" "You did this!"

"How dare you hold me responsible!"

" _I don't understand how you could be outdone by a Mudblood,"_ she imitated.  _"Potter's girl seems to best you at everything, shame you didn't get an Outstanding in Charms like the Mudblood—_ "

"Alright, alright!" her husband interrupted. Taking a deep breath, he continued calmly, "Draco knows this type of behavior will not be tolerated. I will put my foot down. No means no and that's ﬁnal."

"This is not like the time he wanted a unicorn because the Zabini boy had gotten a Puffskein!"

"I don't know why you're even worried about this Cissa," Lucius suddenly laughed, smiling happily. Perhaps Azkaban was driving him mad. "That girl is in love with Potter. It's disgustingly obvious! You can practically see the stardust in her eyes. Nothing will come of this  _ﬁxation_."

"Fixation? You said passing curiosity, when did you realize?"

Taking his hands into hers again he replied, "I caught him watching her read in Flourish and Blotts once, but, don't worry, she's in love with Arthur Weasley's son—"

"You just said—!"

"It-it could be either," he spluttered. "It's difﬁcult to tell with the way they all carry on."

"I hope you're right... if the Dark Lord ﬁnds out—"

"Trust me," said Lucius in a conﬁdent, all-knowing tone. "We have absolutely no reason to concern ourselves with Hermione Granger."

* * *

Hermione Granger couldn't stop thinking about Draco Malfoy.

Hermione Granger couldn't stop thinking that she should really be turning him into Dumbledore, or Harry, or the Order.

Hermione Granger couldn't stop thinking about his hands. They were so much bigger than hers and when did he get so—

"What are you still doing in bed?" asked Ginny pulling the bed curtain aside. "Nothing."

Her friend was looking at her curiously, "You better hurry up or you'll be late." "For what?" Now the redhead was looking at her like she was completely bonkers. "To go home. Christmas holidays, remember?"

"Oh," said Hermione in a dreamy voice. "Right."

Ginny rolled her eyes wondering if perhaps her friend had too much mead at Slughorn's last night.

Instead of getting up, Hermione just rolled over onto her other side. Maybe she should say something to him, but what could she say?  _Good morning_ –no,  _hi_ –no that's stupid…

Oh I know, she thought, holding the coin and writing a message. She bit her lip smiling at her own cleverness. Then she stared at the coin waiting for a reply. Nothing was happening. Well, he probably didn't have his with him at the moment. Getting out of bed she showered, dressed and made her way with her bag to the Great Hall even though there wasn't much time left to have a proper breakfast. Everyone was there, including Won-Won.

Sighing, she sat down next to Harry who, she was beginning to realize, would strategically place himself away from Ron's snogging and closer to Ginny. Whenever Hermione saw the lovebirds she would diligently ignore them and today wasn't going to be any different. Plus, she was in high spirits knowing she'd be with her parents for a few days and she wouldn't let Ron ruin that. After a few minutes, she was wishing everyone goodbye and a Merry Christmas. When she was hugging Harry, he whispered that he had something important to tell her when they all got back to Hogwarts. She didn't pay much mind to him though, because just then her wrist ﬂashed hot and her mind went back to the blonde-haired boy who'd kissed it last night.


	12. Unraveling

There was no natural sunlight in the dungeons where the Slytherin boy's dormitory was, so when Draco woke up he could scarcely tell how long he'd slept in. Pulling the bed curtain aside he found the room completely empty. He laid back down wondering why he even bothered to get up. He wasn't leaving Hogwarts; he couldn't go back home until either he or Dumbledore was dead. He would be alone for Christmas and for New Years, which at this point he didn't really mind, except his mother would be alone and he couldn't stand the thought of that.

Then his mind went to Granger, who would have probably left by now. Granger who had discovered him crying, who he was ninety-nine-percent sure knew that he had taken the Dark Mark, whose hand he had held. He covered his face with a pillow and considered asphyxiating himself. He wasn't sure which was worse, the crying, her knowing he was a Death Eater or the wrist kiss. He groaned into the pillow.

At least now it didn't matter, she'd tell Potter, or Dumbledore, or everyone. Oh Merlin, would she tell them about the kiss and the crying or would she leave those parts out? Well, he would just wait in bed till someone came to put him out of his misery, probably Potter or Weasley. Stupid Mudblood, she ruins everything. She's a ruiner. She's… she smells nice. Then Draco spent some time wondering whether it was her shampoo, perfume or if it was just the scent of her skin. He wondered if she smelt the same everywhere. He rubbed his face vigorously. What the hell was he doing lying there thinking about how Hermione Granger smells. He needed to stop her, he needed to-to… to do  _something_. He couldn't just sit next to his father in Azkaban while his mother suffered the consequences of his failure. He swung his legs off the bed and walked over to his open trunk. Rummaging through, trying to ﬁnd the protean-charmed coin, he tried thinking of different ways to shut her up but what could he possibly say to dissuade her? He couldn't think of a single reason, at least no sane reason. He'd just have to… have to… to kidnap her. Yes! Just until this was all over. Yes, kidnap her, get her alone somewhere, grab her, blindfold her, take her somewhere isolated where no one can hear her scream, lock her up in a room, tie her to the bed…his mind went a little quiet. He mentally slapped himself.

 _Can't kidnap her_ , he thought.  _She'll hex me, besides Potter and Weasley will go nuts, not to mention the girl- Weasley. Bat-bogey hex? No, thank you._

Finally, he saw the coin, peaking out between the folds of his robes. As he picked up the coin, the surface shimmered and words began to appear: Library, Disappearing Isles of Bryn, 0920. He frowned. She'd messaged him. She was up to something. Then he re-read the words. He'd never heard of the Isles of Bryn, but he ﬁgured it must be a book in the library. What was 0920?

 _A book,_ he wrote.

He received a reply almost instantly.  _Yes, at 0920._

Oh, the time! Litle swot, speaking in riddles. He checked the clock on the wall and realized he was already late. But wait… was she trying to lure him there with a band of Aurors laying in wait? Pulling a shirt over his head he decided to go ﬁnd out.

Entering the library, it hit him just how deserted the castle really was during the Christmas holidays. There wasn't a soul there. He reluctantly approached Madam Pince to ask after the book. She gave him a distrustful look before pointing to the back of the library.

"Last shelf on the last aisle to the left, under lost things."

Furrowing his brow, he made his way over. Where was this book, the last aisle on the left— "Bout time!" Granger said startling him. "Where were you?"

"Slow morning," replied Draco. He was feeling a little awkward sneaking around in the back aisles of the library with her like this. It would've been easier on his nerves if there were Aurors. Why was she here, did this mean she would be staying at Hogwarts over Christmas as well? "I thought… weren't you going home?"

"I am. I only have a few minutes." Oh.

She was staring at him and he didn't know what to say. Not after last night. Should he be begging her not to tell anyone? Maybe she didn't even know, maybe she thought he'd injured himself and he was being a big cry baby about it– that's possible.

"Aren't you?" she asked with a small smile. "You always do." "Not this year." He could tell she didn't like that answer.

"Well," Granger huffed opening her bag. "I wanted to give you something before I left—" What a prison sentence? "—I think you should read it."

Draco couldn't believe it. Hermione Granger wasn't turning him in. She was giving him homework. He took the book and examined it.

"The Picture of Dorian Gray…" he murmured reading the cover. "A muggle book." "Yes," she replied with her chin raised. "Yes, it is."

"No." He clenched his jaw angrily. "I'm not reading this."

"Yes, you are." She pushed the book to his chest, her ﬁngers on his ﬁngers. "Consider it a Christmas gift." They were staring each other down. Draco felt like he was caught in some kind of game with her but he didn't know the rules. He studied her pursed lips, the color on her cheeks, her eyes set in a deadlock and he was furious. Not with her but with himself. He'd been letting things fall through the cracks. Letting  _her_ fall through the cracks.

"I said no," he gritted placing the book on the shelf.

She seemed to deﬂate, her shoulders sagging and he thought for a moment he'd won. But then she was looking at him with her big brown almond eyes and saying, "You could do the right thing Malfoy. It doesn't have to be this way."

There was a rising panic within Draco threatening to unravel him as he gazed at her incredulous. He hated how she spoke as if she seemed to know everything, hated the way she felt safe enough to ask him, hated the way she made it sound so simple. There was no right thing. No right and wrong. There was surviving. There was his family. There was don't-get-eaten-by-a-fucking-snake. She was trying to kill him. Ruiner, she ruins things.

Gripping her arms in a tight vice he pushed her into the bookshelf. "Don't you ever get tired of being so fucking virtuous all the time?" he hissed. "That's the thing about you, you prance around thinking you're so smart, so brave, so much better than the rest of us, Hermione-Fucking-Granger, Gryfﬁndor's little angel, Brightest Witch of Her Age, Saint Potter's pet! But in truth… you're beneath me, you'll always be beneath me. A dirty, ﬁlthy Mudblood."

And he was panting over her, his breath heavy and hot.

Hermione had held his stare throughout his tirade. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and his gaze followed the movement. He waited for retribution, a hex, an outcry of indignation but when she spoke it was calm and calculated.

"Careful Draco," He ﬂinched at the way his name rolled off her tongue. "Keep cornering me like this and claiming how ﬁlthy I am beneath you, well, people might start getting ideas."

Then she yanked her arms out of his grip and stomped off.

He was dumbstruck, the book forgotten. Feeling a little lightheaded, he walked back to the dungeons in a sort of daze. He was tired, he just needed to sleep, he felt like he hadn't slept in months. When he closed his eyes though, all he could do was turn and twist under the sheets, painfully aware of how aroused he was by the mere thought of having Granger naked, ﬁlthy and under him.

And he could say it had all began when he showed her the conjuring charm, or when Theo had made that comment over summer, or the way Pansy had berated him Fourth year but it had started far earlier than all of that.

It had been Third year when she'd slapped him, or more accurately, after that. He remembered how angry he'd been. He'd swore to Crabbe and Goyle there'd be retribution. He'd get her alone and make her pay… but he'd bide his time. He'd be smart… patient. And he had been. He'd followed her to the library and waited for her to disappear into the labyrinth of shelves. Silly little girl liked studying in remote little corners.

There was something so exciting about ﬁnally catching the Mudblood alone. He could feel his entire body vibrate. Quietly rounding the corner, he saw her. Her back to him. On all fours. Her wand had fallen through the thin gap between the two adjoining tables. Her hips swayed back and forth trying to reach for it. Then her bum dipped and came up again and he had his wand clenched so tightly in his hand he thought it would break.

This was the image that conquered him, that had his hand reach for his hard length. He groaned because it'd been so long since he'd had an erection, and so long since he'd allowed himself to think of that day in the library when he'd walked away from Hermione Granger still reaching for her wand on all fours.

Except now she was naked and he could hear his name fall from her parted lips.

And every inch of her, like being buried in soft earth and gardenias.


	13. Chess Club

Two days before Theodore Nott's tenth Christmas, his father had presented him with his first chess set. It was meant to be given to him on Christmas day but his mother's health was failing and as a child, his father believed it would do well to distract him from the truth. He absolutely loved it, the board was made entirely of black and white marble and the pieces were crafted in white and green jade stone. His father had proudly declared that he'd picked the set with the green jade because he just knew his son would be sorted into Slytherin, but his mother gave a weak laugh and said his father had picked it claiming green was a Christmas color.

Theo remembered how he had spent hours playing chess by himself. The pieces were enchanted so that he could play without needing an opponent. He still had this chess set. It was probably the most beautiful gift he'd ever receive from his father, for the next day his mother would pass away and his father would become like Theo's beloved white King, a cold, colorless unyielding man.

Theo had run into his parent's room, where she spent most of her time resting, to tell her he'd just won his tenth game. He would become the greatest wizard's chess champion! His smile faded upon entering her room. She was lying in bed, her eyes half-lidded, a sheen of perspiration on her face. She reached her arm out and told him to hold her hand, just until she fell asleep. So he did, and he watched his mother die with a small smile gracing her lips and her eyes only leaving his when they gently closed.

His father sent him to stay with the Malfoy's that night while he made funeral arrangements. He hadn't known what to do with his son now that he had no wife. Theo's presence at Malfoy Manor was haunting. While he had always been a quiet child, now he was mute. Draco wouldn't have any of that. Nothing was going to ruin Christmas. Nothing. Christmas was, after all, the best holiday ever. Whenever his mother and father weren't around he'd talk to Theo as if nothing had happened and when Theo wouldn't respond, he'd go on as if he had. Christmas day came and his father still hadn't taken Theo home. Instead, he'd sent Theo the chess set. Narcissa and Lucius had bought him a remembrall which they gave to him with a sad smile. Draco had insisted they play a chess game despite not having known how to play. It forced Theo to teach him. He'd slaughtered Draco almost immediately but the little blonde-haired boy was in such high spirits because his friend was speaking again.

It would soon be seven years since his mother had died. He'd gotten up early, said a quick goodbye to everyone who was going home for the holidays. He and Malfoy would be the only two Slytherins staying back at Hogwarts. Walking back into the boy's dormitory he found Draco, surprisingly, still asleep. Theo was happy to find that his friend was finally getting some undisturbed hours of rest, so he decided to do some flying. Then he'd pop by the Owlery and check if Luna Lovegood had written him a letter.

* * *

Draco sat in the Great Hall, staring at his plate of food. He'd woken again a little after noon and found Theo, freshly showered, in the common room reading something. He'd put it away quickly and before Draco could ask what it was he was being shoved off to shower and then dragged off to eat lunch. Images of Granger still plagued him and he felt that if Theo so much as looked at him, he'd just know. He'd know that Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, had wanked off to—

"So did you finish?"

Draco flinched, his eyes snapped up to Theo's.

"What?"

"Y'know… whatever it is you're doing?"

Oh, that's right, that thing, the reason why he'd come back to the dormitory so late last night. He was trying to fix the Vanishing cabinet. He wasn't off holding hands with Hermione Granger.

"No."

"I could help," said Theo casually.

"No," he sighed. He didn't want to have this conversation.

"You don't trust me." A statement, not a question.

"I don't trust anyone right now Nott," Draco answered truthfully. "Not even myself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Head's a bloody mess." Draco started playing with his food.

"This have to do with Weasley?"

" _Weasley?_  I don't give a toss about Weasley," Draco said snarling. "Let him and Granger fight, shag, get married, fight again, have five or six babies. Fuck Weasley."

He caught Theo's stare. He looked taken aback. Pressing his lips together, he quietly corrected, "I meant Weasley senior, the one who keeps searching your house."

"Oh- I, no, no," Draco was stuttering. "There's nothing to find, I'm not worried about that."

Theo's dark eyes narrowed, flitting across his face trying to read him. He opened his mouth and closed it. Then opened it again and in an apprehensive tone asked, "What have you done Draco?"

Nothing!" he snapped. "Just leave it." Thankfully Theo went back to eating but he knew the nosey bastard would be keeping a watchful eye on him. He already had to deal with Granger knowing everything, with Snape hounding him day and night with his incessant questions about his plans, he didn't need Nott butting into his business as well. Couldn't everyone just leave him the hell alone? Picking up his fork he began eating. Honestly, first the little Mudblood with her little muggle book and then–what did she mean by people will start getting ideas. Who was getting ideas–other than him, of course– who? Was she  _getting ideas_ …? Dear Merlin, she knew. He'd kissed her after all. But that was different, that was… a one-off. She couldn't know everything. But… what had Pansy told her—

"I'm going to head to the library after," Nott said between mouthfuls "You coming?"

"Yeah," replied Draco. He had to retrieve the Picture of Dorian Gray. He didn't want to read the muggle book but maybe there were answers in there. He still couldn't figure out why she hadn't turned him in. There must've been a reason she wanted him to read it.

Theo who was walking beside him was telling an amusing story about Daphne Greengrass.

"She wants me. Her hands were everywhere, any excuse to touch me," he laughed. Draco scoffed as if it was hardly likely.

"Thought Daphne had a fellow over in Durmstrang."

Shrugging, Theo snickered, "Just can't help herself, can she?"

Draco snorted shaking his head, a smile tugging on his lips. Count on the arrogant prat to get a laugh out of him even in his worst mood.

Still smiling, he looked at Theo and admitted, "Well, she did ask me if you were staying back at Hogwarts for Christmas." Theo gave him an I-told-you-so look as they entered the library. Looking toward the shelves at the back of the library Draco said, "I just came to get a book."

Theo nodded in understanding and went his own way. Draco headed toward the shelf of lost things.

* * *

He'd left the book hidden in his trunk, couldn't have muggle paraphernalia just lying around. He was a Malfoy for Merlin's sake. And he hadn't found the energy to read it. He'd read and re-read the first lines but couldn't seem to make it any further. He just couldn't concentrate without thinking about his impending doom. He'd spent some time in the Room of Requirement the days before Christmas and finally, after months of trying, had managed to send an apple through. So for a little while, he felt he had some reprieve. He was getting somewhere… maybe now it was just a matter of time.

He didn't want to think about the Vanishing Cabinet any more. Today was Christmas. He woke up late morning to find Theo in the common room. He was waiting with the chess set they'd play on every single year and each year he beat Draco.

"White or green?" asked Theo.

"Green, I'm always green."

Theo scoffed. "Forever a Slytherin."

They played and while Draco was good, Theo was the far superior player.

"Merry Christmas Draco," Theo smirked as he called checkmate.

"Merry Christmas you ponce." Draco stood, giving Theo a quick hug.

Then suddenly they both heard the stone wall move and turned to see who was entering. Blaise stepped in wearing beautiful emerald green robes. The same robes he hadn't had a chance to buy at Madam Malkins. The bastard.

"Ho, ho, ho, you two whores, Merry Christmas!" They both jumped up, eyes alight with surprise and went over to hug him incredulously.

"Zabini, what the bloody hell are you doing here?" asked Theo grinning.

"Like I'd let you two wankers have all the fun. I brought eggnog!" Blaise said lifting a bottle out of his bag with triumph.

"That's firewhiskey," Theo said pointedly.

"Look," Blaise sighed with melodramatic flair. "I had an epiphany of some sorts. I definitely qualify to be in your little club—"

"There is no club," Draco interjected.

"Well, there's not if I'm not a member. Which I most certainly am. Slytherin-  _check_ , fatherless-  _check_ , prick most of the time-  _check_ , alone on Christmas-  _check_."

"Oh Merlin, I think he's trying to say he loves us," Draco frowned as if he had something foul in his mouth.

"There's the Christmas spirit!" Zabini laughed wrapping his arms around Draco's shoulder and giving him a hearty shake. Malfoy tossed him off laughing.

"Thought you were with your mom for Christmas," Theo stated, with a questioning tone. Zabini shrugged and told them she'd gone off with some new bloke skiing and he didn't really want to third wheel with them. This wasn't at all unexpected of Mrs. Zabini, her behavior was, well, inconsiderate, but Draco always thought that she was very good at finding new ways to disappoint her son. Theo frowned disapprovingly but then conjured three glasses. Blaise uncorked the whiskey and poured everyone a glass.

"A toast," Theo said, "to… to the chess club."

Draco and Blaise smiled knowing all too well what Theo meant. The glasses clinked together and all three boys downed their drinks.


	14. The Last Lie

Hermione had done nothing but worry after leaving Hogwarts. She couldn't stop wondering what Draco was doing in the castle. There could only be one reason for him staying over Christmas holidays and that was to continue whatever it was he was meant to be doing for Voldemort. Why else would he leave his mother alone? She still couldn't be a hundred percent sure that he had anything to do with the necklace because, as McGonagall had told them, he was in detention with her at the time Katie Bell was cursed. But if she was confronted with making a choice, she'd have to agree with Harry, that yes, Draco had been responsible.

She couldn't figure out how he had done it but she had a sinking feeling that it was part of the service he'd mentioned to Blaise Zabini. Yet, Voldemort himself couldn't kill a wizard as powerful as Albus Dumbledore, so that could only mean that Draco had been given the task knowing he would fail.

And still, he'd tried. Was he arrogant enough to think he could kill the headmaster, or was he desperate enough? Knowing Draco Malfoy, it was probably a little bit of both.

She was beginning to regret not having told someone but then she imagined if she did– what would happen to him? Finding him curled up crying; he seemed so… harmless. And so Hermione continued to see-saw between listening to her head and her heart.

Her parents had sensed her unease and asked if everything was alright. She could only smile and nod in the affirmative. What could she possibly tell them? That she was certain that the boy who had bullied her for the last few years had progressed to becoming a fully fledged Death Eater, intent on ridding the world of her kind. No, she'd really rather not. She just wanted to savor these days with her mother and father.

But then… what about what Pansy had told her, was it true? Remembering her last words to Draco, she bit her lip and blushed. Had she really said that–had she really made that kind of innuendo? Her butterflies had butterflies whenever she thought about being underneath him, the whole thing was too bizarre to even think about. Although there was a certain appeal to having the prejudice pureblood panting after her. In fact, seeing Draco Malfoy on his knees begging her would be the perfect kind of revenge for all the things he'd ever said to her. But she'd, well, she'd point and laugh– she wouldn't entertain other  _ideas_.

He was a Death Eater, and he was Malfoy. For God's sake, he was Draco Malfoy. She shook her head. No more thinking about the big bad Death Eater.

Running down the stairs Christmas morning she made a beeline for the tree. She could smell the delicious scent of her mother's famous buttermilk and banana pancakes wafting in from the kitchen. The tree was by the front window of the house, brimming full with tinsel and ornaments. Her father was sitting in the chair closest to it sipping on hot cocoa and listening to Christmas carols.

"Merry Christmas dad," she said hugging him tightly.

He faked being choked to death, "When did you get so strong, Hun?"

"Ha-ha!" She smiled. He had made the same joke when she had hugged him hello at the train station. He fell back onto the chair with a thump.

"Breakfast or presents first?" he asked cheerfully as she released him.

"Do you even have to ask!" exclaimed Hermione rolling her eyes. It's like they didn't know her at all. He let out a huge belly shaking laugh as he watched her tear into the wrapping. She grinned with glee as she opened the box and found a brand new iPod. "I've heard of these, they're supposed to be fantastic." She wondered why there wasn't an equivalent thing in the wizarding world. Bouncing up she went over to the computer in the living room and busied herself with downloading all her music onto her new iPod. As the download began her mom called from the kitchen that Christmas pancakes were a-go. She'd made them in the shape of gingerbread men. How cool was her mom? Hermione wished her and gave her a big hug, getting flour all over her shirt.

"Oh look, it's Frosty the snowman," her dad teased as he entered the kitchen. The two women rolled their eyes as Mr. Granger laughed out loud at his own joke. Watching her parents, she couldn't imagine how anyone could hate or wish to harm them. They were kind, silly, and loving.

Drowning her pancakes in maple syrup, she chatted happily to them both. After breakfast, her parents opened her presents. She'd knitted them both matching jumpers. Mrs. Weasley had taught her last year and she decided she'd continue the tradition with her family. Plus, it's not like she had a lot of money. It was difficult to save when you were straddling two worlds. She was a little sad to not be at the burrow this year, it was odd. The Weasleys were like her second home, after Hogwarts of course. Everyone had probably opened their presents by now. The strange thing was that while she missed the burrow, she didn't feel like she ought to be there.

She really ought to be at the castle. She shouldn't have left him alone—

"Hun, I know we've asked already but, are you sure you're ok?" asked her mother with a troubled expression. Hermione was just about to say she was absolutely fine when she hesitated because she wasn't fine and she'd just been staring out the window like a looney for the last ten minutes.

"This year isn't turning out exactly the way I expected," she shrugged. Not knowing what else to say. Looking up again she found they were still staring at her intently waiting for her to explain. "I just... there's this,"– she hesitated– " _Friend_. He's going through a lot. I worry that he shouldn't be alone right now. I'm scared of what he might do."

"What he might do," her father repeated. "Like hurt himself?"

Hermione sighed, "Exactly." Because that's exactly what she wanted Draco to understand. "There are some things you can never take back."

Her mother looked worried. She asked after his parents, and what had happened exactly, wasn't there a teacher he could speak to, but Hermione couldn't tell them one thing without having to explain another so she just told them to forget she'd said anything.

"I'm here and I want to enjoy the time I have with you'll." They seemed reluctant but dropped the subject anyway. They were never the kind of parents to push her to do anything. They knew she would come to them if she needed them.

* * *

Christmas went by and it was the day before New Years. She was in her room sitting at her desk. She had been staring at a blank piece of parchment for the last twenty minutes. She'd decided to tell Harry. How could she not when she'd dismissed his suspicions, how could she not when she believed that Draco had given Katie Bell the cursed necklace. He was dangerous to himself and to others.

And yet she couldn't. Every time she tried putting her quill to the parchment she'd freeze. She'd replay memories; his hand over hers, a halo of little yellow birds, the glint of gold, his thumb brushing against her lip, his tears, the blood on his sleeve, his mouth kissing her wrist and then Pansy in her ear hissing, "You'll ruin him."

She couldn't breathe. The quill fell. She started rubbing her fingers over the bracelet. She just needed to breathe.

Suddenly there was a knock on her door. Her parents didn't wait for a response before they were slowly opening it.

"Hey, hun."

"Hi." She tried smiling as they both walked in.

"We might be going away for the weekend."

"Where are we going?"

Her parents were looking at each other apologetically.

"We didn't want to tell you this earlier but we had entered a raffle and we won a getaway weekend trip by the coast and, well, it's only for two."

She frowned, not entirely understanding. They were leaving?

"I can't come?"

"Well, we were thinking you could go back to Hogwarts a few days earlier."

"Oh."

"It's not like that," her mother exhaled. We just thought it'd be good for you to spend time with your friend." Her father wasn't looking at her.

Hermione sighed. "There is no raffle, is there?"

"Aw Hun," her father huffed sitting on her bed. "There's no point having you here when your mind is already over there."

"I'm so sorry," said Hermione, overwhelmed with guilt at the thought of having neglected her parents. Especially, when they scarcely got to spend time together. Her mother was fussing with her hair, moving it out of her face.

"Don't you feel bad," she admonished. "We have plenty of holidays ahead of us and– you're caught in the middle of something. We know that you wouldn't be worrying like this if it wasn't important."

Her eyes glistened.

They really were the best people she knew and she loved them more than they could know.

* * *

Draco had spent every day in the Room of Requirement working on the Vanishing cabinet. He'd managed to send another apple through, which meant he knew for certain how to open a channel for things to leave the castle. Now he just needed to figure out how to open a channel to allow things to enter the castle. While walking to the seventh-floor corridor he debated how long it would be before the Dark Lord would send him another, 'reminder', when he suddenly stopped short.

There were footsteps behind him.

He turned, alarmed.

Hermione.

"Hi," she squeaked as if he'd caught her by surprise. "What are you doing here?"

What was he doing here... he was, he was just looking for–wait. What was  _she_  doing here, she was meant to be home for the holidays.

"What are  _you_  doing here?" he countered.

"Are you going to the Room of Requirement?" She asked ignoring his question.

His eyebrows furrowed. Smart little witch. "Are you following me?"

"Of course," Hermione replied with a tilt of her head. As if he even had to ask. He glared at her. She took a deep breath and exhaled. "Did you read the book?"

Oh, fuck. He hadn't done his homework. It would've been less frightening to face Snape with an incomplete essay. Maybe the book was a test. Like if he hadn't read it, he wouldn't pass and she would go running off to Dumbledore or worse, Potter.

"Yeah," he lied. "I read it."

Her eyes lit up, "You did?"

He nodded. Hermione walked up to him.

She was chewing her lip. Draco could see the little gears shifting in that fluffy head of hers. Was he staring—?

"So…"  _So, you won't say anything_ , he prayed. "Let's do something," she blushed.

He must've misheard. "Excuse me?"

"We could… oh! We could watch a movie!"

"What?"

"Yeah!" she said grabbing his hand and pulling him towards Gryffindor Tower. Had she lost her mind? He withdrew his hand like it was on fire. She looked hurt. "There's no one else there," she huffed as if that was the problem.

That was only the tip of the iceberg. He made a show of putting his hands in his pockets. "I have things to do Granger."

"Like what?" She challenged, folding her arms.

Like fixing a Vanishing cabinet and letting Death Eaters into the school. Fuck _._

"Nothing."

She was grinning triumphantly. "Brilliant!"

He followed her like a wayward child; his hands still in his pockets. There were still a few Ravenclaw stragglers in the castle and he couldn't just bloody well hold her hand. When had that become a thing she thought she could do? Stepping into the Gryffindor common room made the fine hairs on his neck stand up. He was officially in enemy territory. Even the Fat Lady in the portrait had tutted at Hermione in disapproval. He agreed. He most definitely disapproved of this too.

"Justin Finch-Fletchly is a huge movie buff," Hermione was explaining as she transfigured one of the sofa cushions into a stand of some sort. "He brought the TV and DVD player to Hogwarts third year but then Colin Creevey stole it from their common room fourth year and it's been here since."

He had no idea what she was talking about.

"Who knew Colin could have such sticky hands," she was babbling. "But then again he swears that he'd rightly won a bet, I don't know the details but..." He watched as she levitated a large black box and placed it on the table. "Sit," she insisted and pushed him down onto the couch. He was aware of how much more afternoon light filtered through the windows and into the room, warming it. He was loathed to admit that even their couch was a lot nicer than theirs. Bloody Gryffindors.

Then she did something unforgivable.

She got on all fours.

She was fiddling with the metallic box, mumbling about wires and having to connect something to another thing. He looked down at his lap willing himself not to stare at her arse stretched tight underneath her muggle jeans. Then she was bouncing down on the couch and with the flick of her wand the black box sprang to life.

What the fuck was he doing?

* * *

A/N: I know iPods weren't released till 2001 but I flipped a coin on it!


	15. Babysitting Malfoy

A/N: I understand that Lotr's was only released in 2001. But I love the films and wanted it in the story.

* * *

Hermione had just unpacked after arriving back at Hogwarts. She'd been so busy thinking about returning to the castle that she'd never given thought to what she would do once she was here. She could use the Marauders Map but she wasn't sure if Harry had taken it with him. Then again, what good would it do to merely spy on him? Deep down Hermione wanted it to be Draco's decision to do the right thing and for some insane illogical reason, she believed he could. He just needed a–a–a Jiminy cricket! A conscience! Exactly…

Opening Harry's trunk, she was happy to find that the map was right where she'd left it the last time. She unfolded it and found that the castle was empty. Snape was here. McGonagall. Lisa Turpin. Theodore Nott.

Draco Malfoy.

A little black dot moving up towards the seventh floor. Why would he– was he coming to the Gryffindor Tower? No… that didn't make sense.

The only other thing she could think of was the Room of Requirement.

_Mischief Managed._

She threw on a jumper and ran out. Turning down the corridor she saw him and began to follow him. He stopped and turned so suddenly she almost jumped out of her skin.

He was looking at her like he was seeing a ghost. She'd asked him if he was going to the Room of Requirement and he'd responded by glowering at her which meant he was definitely up to something there.

But then he said he'd read the Picture of Dorian Gray and that gave her so much hope. If he was willing to do that, he was willing to listen… right?

Then it hit her, she'd just babysit Malfoy from now on, that's how she'd deal with this. Eventually, something would rub off.

His mere presence was so nerve-wracking. He was standing there looking completely lost and she had to physically seat him. Then getting the TV to work without electricity was another hassle and it's not as if Mr. Pureblood over here knew how to help. The whole ordeal was traumatic, to say the least. She wished he would relax then she could. He was sitting on the couch upright, like a stone statue. Was he even breathing? This wasn't at all like watching a movie with Harry.

The movie started and she was glad that she'd chosen Lord of the Rings. After she conceded that–yes, wizards, elves, everything was grossly misrepresented and explained that everything in the film was a fictional story written by a muggle– Draco became completely absorbed. He even seemed to relax a little into the couch. Halfway through the film, the silence between them had become somewhat comfortable. He seemed to have the bad habit of asking her what was going to happen without watching to find out.  _Will Boromir try to steal the ring from Frodo? How will Gandalf escape from that tower, he can't Apparate, can he?_

When The Lord of the Rings was over, she raised her arms and stretched.

"It's stopped," said Draco looking at her accusingly, as if she'd done something.

"The movie's over."

"But the story wasn't finished."

"It's a trilogy, there are two more movies."

"Oh good," he said settling back into the couch. Her mouth hung open.

"You want to watch them now?"

He scowled at her. "What's the point of only showing me a third of a story?"

"Each movie is almost three hours long!"

"Better get some food then," he muttered. "Nix!"

Hermione almost jumped as an elf apparated right in front of her.

"Master Malfoy is calling?" asked the little elf.

Draco smiled, "Bring dinner Nix. For both of us."

"I can get my own dinner, thank you very much!"

"Miss doesn't like Nix–" Nix said whimpering.

"She doesn't know what she's talking about," he interjected.

"Nix makes nice food!"

Hermione's eyes widened realizing the elf was on the verge of tears.

"No, no, I want food… I… just if you're tired Nix, I'd be happy to get it myself, but—"

"Don't listen to her. She's not right in the head," he sniggered.

Nix nodded and Disapparated with a pop.

Hermione rounded on him as soon as he was gone. She was seething.

"Real classy Malfoy!" she scolded.

"I'll have you know Nix happens to really like me. He used to work here in the kitchens and he'd always bring me sugar quills and jelly slugs."

She stared at him with utter disbelief. He was absolutely awful, all the way to his shriveled non-existent heart.

"Those things will rot your teeth," she scowled squinting at him.

"Ridiculous," smirked Draco. "I have excellent teeth."

"You're so conceited!"

Draco's smug face fell. "What's your problem?" he growled.

"Just remembering the time you hit me with Densaugeo," she cut back.

"That's not fair, I was aiming it at Potter!"

"After you said you didn't want a Mudblood touching your hand!"

Malfoy's cheeks were bright red. He was glaring at her his jaw clenched. She knew they were both thinking the same thing; he clearly didn't have a problem with her touching his hand anymore. "You could apologize y'know," she said suddenly. "For everything."

He stared at her for a long moment. "Fine," he huffed. " _If_  you apologize for slapping me."

"You deserved that, you were going to kill poor Buckbeak!"

He narrowed his eyes at her and leaned in close. "Don't you mean Witherwings?" he drawled.

Her breath hitched. She'd just deny it, she'd just—

"Don't even bother, I'm not stupid."

"But, but how did you know?" stuttered Hermione.

Draco scoffed. "Like I haven't seen you down there cuddling the little monster like a little Pygmy Puff."

Hermione began chewing her lip and staring at him intently. "You've been watching me?" she whispered meekly.

"No- I, I just..." he stammered. She leaned into him, waiting. He smelt like… citrus, spice, and freshly cut grass. "I saw you once, just the one time."

"Okay," Hermione pursed her lips trying not to smile. She licked her lips. "I'm sorry I slapped you Draco." She stared at him meaningfully waiting for his apology.

"I... I'm," but the words seemed to stick in his throat. He was staring at her mouth. He swallowed. "Me too."

If she could just get a little closer to smell him again–

"Nix brings Master and Miss food!"

Draco startled, standing up so quickly that the cushion on his lap fell. Hermione was blushing. She was up too and started fiddling with the DVD player.

"Right, next disk," she announced.

"Next what?"

"Next movie."

She sat back down onto the couch, much further away from him than she'd been before. Flicking her wand, the movie started. She took a cushion and pressed it to her chest. It was colder on this side of the couch. She frowned as she realized that Nix had left Draco a sugar quill.  _Spoilt brat._

He held it out, offering it to her.

"Don't worry Granger, you have excellent teeth too."

Her heart stopped.


	16. New Year Moonlight

They were three-quarters of the way into the last movie of the trilogy when he turned to ask Hermione something and found her fast asleep. She looked like a little ball with her knees tucked in and her hair splayed around her face.

Merlin, she was cute.

He'd never seen her sleep. He watched the subtle movement of her chest, the way one hand dangled over the edge of the couch. She looked so at peace.

Draco smiled to himself. He had a thought.

Did he dare?... Oh, he did. He had to play it just right for it to work though.

He got up very quietly and walked around to the back of the couch to stand right behind her. Taking his wand out he took a deep breath.  _Wingardium Leviosa_  he whispered, levitating the TV high into the air and then he pursed his lips and with a swish of his wand, released the spell.

_BANG!_

Hermione woke with a start, breathless, her hair sticking out at all sides staring wide-eyed at the broken TV on the floor.

"Boo," he whispered behind her ear.

She yelped and fell backward onto the rug.

Draco burst out laughing. A hand over his face, he came around to see her sprawled on the floor. She was staring at him in shock, half dazed. He cast a  _Reparo_  on the TV and stood above her reveling in his own genius. Hermione sat up on her elbows and glared at him.

"Now, now Granger, better get up off the filthy floor. Don't want anyone walking in and getting ideas," he smirked, throwing her words back in her face.

Hermione turned brick red with embarrassment and shouted  _Locomotor Mortis!_ Draco's legs suddenly locked causing him to land with a thud in an undignified manner onto the floor next to her. "Learnt that from you when you used it on Neville first year," she laughed, rolling onto her side to watch him struggle.

"Do you remember everything woman?" he retorted, releasing the binds with his wand. "You're worse than Pansy." Draco groaned, rubbing and stretching out his back. Clever little witch.

He noticed that Hermione was watching him apprehensively, then in one breath she blurted, "What happened between you and Pansy?" The question was unexpected. He looked at the ceiling wondering how to answer this.

"She broke it off."

Hermione was quiet and he thought that was the last of that.

"Why?"

 _Why?_   _Because I bought a bracelet, telling myself I was going to give it to her, really believing I was going to give it to her and instead, I gave it to you. And I think when she saw you wearing it, she knew before I did, she knew I'd only ever have given it to you. I hadn't' even realized what I was doing. I attached the coin, performed the spells, put it in an envelope and sent it._

"Draco—"

"She's with Zabini now." There. That was true. He'd already lied to her once today about reading the muggle book. He didn't have it in him to do it again.

"I know. They were at Slughorn's party together..." she murmured. He was still staring at the ceiling wondering when it'd be safe to look elsewhere. "She's very confused… saying things, impossible things... Don't you want to know what she said?" asked Hermione in a quiet voice.

"No," he replied, turning to face her. And it was the honest truth. He didn't want to know because he already had an idea of what she might have said. He didn't want any of it repeated or spoken out loud. Hermione looked as if she were bracing herself to say more when suddenly a loud chime sounded through Gryffindor Tower. "What is that?" asked Draco in alarm.

"It's midnight," she smiled. "Happy new year."

He raised his eyebrows. He'd been so fixated on the cabinet that he hadn't even realized what day it was.

"I didn't realize it was so late," he said. "Happy new year."

Hermione's cheeks grew red. "You could stay the night," she offered shyly.

Draco blinked.

"I mean, Filch is out there and it is past curfew. We could fall asleep right here."

He heard himself say okay. It wasn't real though. This was all just a strange dream. He'd wake up and it'd be over. He watched as Hermione transfigured her clothes into pajama's and then he did the same.

Grabbing a few cushions off the couch she giggled, "Who would've thought, Draco Malfoy roughing it out." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. She was right, he'd never slept on the ground before. He conjured a blanket and threw it over them. There was an appropriate amount of room between the two as they lay on their sides gazing at each other. He wondered how long she would allow him to stare at her. She was even more beautiful up close.

"Why are you back so early?" asked Draco, his curiosity getting the better of him.

She licked her lips, a nervous tic, he was starting to realize. "I didn't think you should be alone." It came out like a confession and he didn't know how to respond. So he extinguished the fire and the lights.

As Draco's eyes began to close he thought of how the nights weren't as dark in the Tower. There was just enough moonlight on her face.

* * *

Hermione was straddling a dream. Her body searched for heat. It was cold without the fire. Cold-blooded Slytherin snake was evidently used to subfreezing temperatures. She rolled over. That was better. She moved closer to it. That was perfect. She fell back asleep.

Her eyelids fluttered open. A thin ray of morning light was shining on her face. No, not yet. She didn't want to wake up. She was so warm and comfortable. She tried to find her way back, she hid her face into warm flesh. She breathed it in. Mm…

Wait.

She opened her eyes. Her face was buried in the crevice of Draco Malfoy's neck. Her leg was wrapped around his, her thigh dangerously close to—

Oh, God.

She looked up to find that he had his free arm resting above his head, his fist clenched and his eyes open staring ahead.

Hermione tore herself away as if she'd burnt him. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed.

"It's fine," he whispered but he looked pained.

Hermione was cold again. She relit the fire with her wand avoiding his gaze. It felt like they'd done something horribly wrong, almost sinful.

But she would've loved to have rubbed her leg against his just a little. Press her nose to the bare skin of his neck. Breathe. He was so much warmer than she'd imagined him to be.

The thoughts came so unbiddenly she was mortified with herself for even thinking them.

Then suddenly he was up and he was leaving.

"I have to go."

That would be safest. "Ok."

Without another word between them he left.

Hermione fell back onto the rug. The scent of citrus, spice, and wood surrounded her and she knew she was in trouble.

She wasn't supposed to be cuddling up to Draco Malfoy, she was supposed to be keeping an eye on him. She was meant to be his Jiminy Cricket and set him on the right path. The road she was going down though, was a dangerous one.

Sighing, Hermione got up, cleaned the room and put everything back the way it was before. Checking the time, she couldn't believe it was almost noon. A cold shower would do her good and then she'd go down and spend some time with Hagrid and Buckbeak. She still felt awful that she hadn't continued Care of Magical Creatures. Afterward, she'd head to the library. She might as well start studying considering she'd come back early.

Yes, it sounded like the perfect way to spend the day.

And even better, she'd do it all, without thinking about Draco.


	17. Stalemate

The stone wall to the Slytherin common room opened and Draco hurried in. He desperately needed a cold shower. He needed… needed  _something_. Merlin if she'd rubbed her thigh on his just one more time he could've– would've…  _fuck_!

"Draco!" Someone yelled.

He stopped short on the way to the boy's dormitory and turned. "Nott."

"Where the hell have you been?" Theo demanded.

"Later," he mumbled. "Need a shower."

"No," Theo ordered. "What the  _actual_  fuck, do you realize I spent hours looking for you yesterday; in the library, on the grounds, the Quidditch field, the Hall, everywhere!"

"Why?" Draco asked anxiously. Had something happened, maybe to his mother?

" _Why?"_ he repeated incredulously. "Are you serious? Because you just disappeared and didn't come back and… Hell, I don't know what you're doing for-for  _him_."

"I was… detained. I didn't think—"

"Where were you?"

"I-I can't say, you know I can't talk about it."

Theo was combing his hand through his hair furiously. "Well fuck Draco! When I woke up early morning and you still weren't back, I was really worried. I didn't know what to do, I sent your mother an owl."

"You did  _what_?" he hissed stepping toward Theo– to kill him.

"Well what the hell was I supposed to do?" he shouted, waving his arms wildly in the air. "You were just gone!"

"It's fine," said Draco closing his eyes. He'd just write to his mother, calm her down. "I'll owl her now, tell her I'm alright."

"Err– yeah…" Theo said apprehensively. "Except I'm fairly sure she told Snape, he was just in the Great hall looking for you."

"Fuck!" Draco cursed.

Theo held up his hands, "I'll go to his office right now and tell him you're fine."

Shaking his head with irritation Draco headed to the bathrooms. He stripped and stepped under the running water. The anger he felt toward Nott dissipated leaving him with guilt for having been so careless. Of course, he would've been worried. And what had he been doing while Theo was running around the castle looking for him, he'd been lounging around with  _her_. Then he'd lied and made it seem like he was busy doing something for the Dark Lord. What a fucking joke.

He was suddenly feeling exhausted. Right down to his bones. Lying, plotting murders, evading death, all these things were wearing on him. Everything seemed to have become infinitely more complicated with Hermione Granger in the picture.

Next time he saw the witch he wouldn't walk away, he'd run– before she'd have a chance to smile and beguile him into her den of torture. Because that's how he'd best describe what waking up this morning was like… psychological torture.

If he could just be rid of her, wrap his hands around her pretty little neck and–and…would she have let him kiss her? Just the thought of her hot breath on his neck was making him hard.

Draco turned the taps on cold.

He shuddered.

He was losing his grip.

He already wanted to be with her again, just to be near her.

The foundations of his Occlumency were collapsing. He knew it, could feel it. Whenever he tried to close his mind, his body wouldn't let him. There was this  _yearning_... like his skin longed to be touched by hers... like it ached for her.

Merlin, he'd only just been with her and he missed her.

His eyes stung… it would only ever be like this.

He could never have her.

And he needed to be numb to the pain of it, needed to stop feeling  _it_.

But he couldn't shut it off, he was trying and it wasn't working.

Then suddenly he was crying; panicking; gasping; bracing himself against the tiles.

He was in love with her and he could never have her and he couldn't close his mind and the Dark Lord would see it and kill him and his mother and his father and he hadn't fixed the Vanishing cabinet and he was lying to Theo, and Pansy had left him to be with Blaise, and Blaise was part of the Slugclub and he wasn't, because his father was a Death Eater and he was a Death Eater and he Imperiused Madam Rosmerta and he almost killed Katie Bell all while trying to kill Dumbledore and if he didn't kill Dumbledore the Dark Lord would kill him and his mother and his father and then he'd be dead and he couldn't breathe.

He couldn't breathe.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut.

He thought only of the running water.

He inhaled.

He listened to the sound of it.

He exhaled.

He felt calmness fall on him like rain.

He inhaled.

Felt it drip down his back.

He exhaled.

The water was rising.

He inhaled.

He imagined it fiercer, cascading like a waterfall, flooding his mind.

He exhaled.

He thought of only water; clear and cool; washing it all away.

Everything was blank.

The doors to his mind were locked.

A moat of water surrounded them, drowning anything that tried to enter.

* * *

It had almost been three days since Hermione had seen Draco and she was on edge. She had kept an eye on him using the Marauders Map, although it didn't help much. Bizarre thing was, that at first, she couldn't find him on it anywhere. Then she realized that it had to mean two things; either he wasn't at Hogwarts or he was in the Room of Requirement. It did cross her mind that perhaps he had left to do something at Hogsmeade, that is after all where Leanne said Katie had got the necklace but considering that she'd caught him going there before she guessed it was the latter.

Yesterday evening she'd sent him a message on the coin suggesting to play a game of exploding snap. He'd never replied.

She hadn't tried to contact him again after that. She spent the evening sulking in bed feeling far too much like a girl who'd been snubbed by the boy she liked. And it hurt.

Which was mad. Absolutely ridiculous.

She sighed wondering just what she'd gotten herself into. Part of her wished she'd never found Draco that night on patrol. That's when this whole…  _thing_  started.

Classes were beginning again in two days. Harry, Ginny and Won-won would be back tomorrow. If she couldn't help him, she'd have to tell them or someone, a teacher, maybe McGonagall or Dumbledore himself.

Unable to concentrate on what she was reading, she slammed the book shut. No, she would help him. She would find him and force him to stop being a Death Eater. It was that simple. With fierce determination, she left the library and marched up to Gryffindor Tower.

_He thinks he can ghost me, she thought, well, we'll see about that._

She couldn't find Draco on the map, which meant, to her chagrin, that he was in the Room of Requirement  _again_. She sat on Harry's bed trying and failing, for the tenth time in the last few days, to figure out what he was doing in the Room of Requirement.

A plan of action, that's all she needed. Harry was a wizard of action. She just needed to follow his example. She was leaving the room, a plan formulated when she stopped to check her reflection in the mirror. She let down her hair, fiddling with it a little and then chided herself because just what the hell was she doing.

Hermione hurried down to the kitchens and got what she needed, then she went back to the seventh floor to check the Marauders Map again. Draco still hadn't left the Room of Requirement. She grabbed her Ancient Runes book and walked down the corridor. She sat against the wall where the tapestry hung and waited.

It was little over an hour later when a door began to appear. She put her book down calmly on her lap as Draco slid out. Upon seeing her, he froze. She caught a glimpse of the room behind him before the door began to disappear.

"Hello," she smiled, raising herself off the ground. "You didn't respond to my last message… Did you–did you get it?"

"Yes," he said flatly.

Hermione felt a pang of hurt and hoped she didn't look as disappointed as she was. She had to stick to the plan, no allowing any angry or wounded feelings to get in the way.

"Well anyway, I was thinking we could study together, maybe practice non-verbal spells. I'm not as good as I'd like to be at–"

"Can't," Draco deadpanned. He tried to step around her but she blocked him.

She barked a humorless laugh, digging into her bag. "Look, I even got you a sugar quill," she said presenting it proudly. "AND… jelly slugs."

Draco didn't even blink. There was something… off about him.

"Thank you," he said, pushing past her. "But, no thank you." Hermione's shoulders sagged. He was making this so difficult. Screw the plan of action! Hermione pointed her wand at him and cast a weak, non-verbal stunning spell. He was going to practice with her, whether he liked it or not. It hit Draco lightly on his back, he didn't even bother to look back at her before rolling and straightening his shoulders and continuing to walk away. She herself was stupefied. She'd just initiated an altercation and he didn't take the bait. What the hell was wrong with him? Pointing her wand at him again she whispered, under her breath, "Stupefy."

This time it hit him hard enough for him to trip forward. He turned, his eyes narrowing at her and then thought better of it and continued to walk away. Just how far could she go before it was too far?

She cast another stunning spell and this time he fell forward on his hands and knees. Hermione smirked, extremely pleased with herself because as far as she was concerned, he deserved it, he was acting like an absolute prat and... and he was walking toward her and he looked angry.

_Uh-oh._

" _Protego_!" she yelled, deflecting a disarming charm. " _Impedimenta_!"

She stuck out her tongue, as he fell back against the side wall. By the furious look on his face, taunting him was probably not the best idea. Before she could think of what to do next, Draco shouted  _Expelliarmus_ and her wand flew out of her hand hitting the wall. He stood twirling his wand, walking toward her. He looked absolutely predatory. She ran into the nearest room and locked the door. She could hear him laughing. Her heart was racing. He wouldn't actually hurt her, would he? She had to think, outsmart him. She crouched down behind the desks and chairs. Then she heard the door open.

"Come out and play little witch," he chuckled. Hermione listened to his footsteps carefully. If he used  _homem revelio_ to find her she'd have no chance, but he seemed to enjoy the game of cat-and-mouse. She bit her lip wishing she wasn't the mouse. He was in the room near the back wall. She began to crawl quietly toward the door. When she was close enough she made a dash for it, almost getting hit by a Petrificus Totalus. She ran out looking for her wand. Where the hell was it, did he have it? She looked behind her—

" _Stupefy_!" Draco smirked. "See how you like it."

His spell was strong and she fell to the floor near the tapestry. She saw it then, tucked neatly against the wall, just underneath the fabric, her beautiful vine wood wand. It was too far to reach.

Approaching, Draco looked down at her seemingly in deep thought. "Maybe I should tie you up," he hummed.

Hermione screamed " _Accio_!" and her wand flew into her hand. She cast a trip jinx and Draco fell, his wand falling behind him. He tried reaching for it but Hermione dove on him getting to it first.

"Got you!" she exclaimed her wand at his throat and his in her other hand. She was panting over him filled with exhilaration.

Draco was staring at her with dark hooded eyes.

"You're on me," he said breathlessly.

"I know," she said softly. Her lips tugged into a coy smile. "I used wandless magic, did you see?"

"Get off me."

"Not till you say you're sorry," she teased.

"Hermione," he rasped. " _Get off_."

Her smile faded. He'd said her name. It sounded– he looked... hungry.

She stood up quickly and offered him his wand.

Draco took it and raised himself off the floor. They were both flushed from the duel– and something else. Hermione looked away from him.

"See," she said licking her lips, trying to sound nonchalant. "Knew you could use the practice." His jaw clenched, probably sore that she'd bested him. "Classes start the day after… we should do something fun… while we can." Hermione hoped he understood what she was trying to say. Everyone would be back tomorrow and things would be different. They only had so much time to… to…

His eyes were dancing over her face.

She watched him swallow and ask apprehensively, "Want to go to the Three Broomsticks?"

She nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Okay," he echoed, looking a little dazed.

She pursed her lips. She was walking down that road again, the dangerous one.

* * *

As he had hoped for, he and Hermione had the pub to themselves. He imagined it'd be empty considering everyone at Hogwarts were off enjoying their Christmas holidays and the usual residents were visiting family. This was fine though. They were just talking. Nothing that would get him into trouble, at least, not a lot of trouble. It comforted him that Madam Rosmerta was under the Imperius. She wouldn't report seeing them to anyone. Thinking about having cursed the barmaid he decided he needed another drink. That and the fact that he was doing exactly what he set out not to do, but she'd baited him with a fight. He thought he'd constructed a strong guard but she showed up and suddenly it was fragile, penetrable.

He had just started on his third goblet of mead while she was on her second and so far, it had been amusing… for him at least.

"You were running around with those badges," he mocked. "And those awful hats."

"It's slave labor!"

"They like it—"

"Dobby certainly didn't like it, your family used to punish him!"

"Oh  _please_ , that mad elf practically punishes himself. He's completely looney! If you ask me, freeing Dobby is the only thing Potter's done right. Useless wizard," Draco muttered taking a swig from his goblet.

Hermione gaped at him, "How can you say that? Harry is a great wizard, he-he was even in the Triwizard Tournament."

Draco stopped short because he couldn't really argue with that, after all, the twat had fought a dragon and escaped. He laughed to himself.

"Oh yes, the tournament, I recall... see Granger," he said smugly. "I can make badges too."

"You're a real git," she admonished remembering the slogan Potter Stinks. "You even told Rita Skeeter I was dating Harry, the nerve of you, honestly!"

"I thought you were," he shrugged innocently.

Hermione slammed her hand on the table. "You know I wasn't!"

"If I'd known Weasley was in the equation I'd have told her that too."

She almost choked on her drink. "There is no  _equation,"_ she sputtered.

"Please," he scoffed. "We go to the same school, Granger."

He watched as she glanced down embarrassed, "Ron is just a friend."

"Then why is he so angry that Krum gave you a bracelet?"

" _You_  gave me the bracelet," she countered.

"Mm," he drawled, a smirk plastered on his face. "Does that mean I'm part of the equation?"

She blushed, licking her lips. He liked it _._  Liked it too much. He pushed the alcohol away, he shouldn't be drinking.

"What, no, I-I don't... I don't know what you mean."

It must've been the way she was sitting close to him in a shadowed corner or the glint of gold tempting him to touch it but he wanted her to know what he meant. Maybe she already did.

"Don't you?" he blurted. Because if he was sure of one thing, it was that Hermione Granger knew everything.

He brushed his fingers against hers. Her breath hitched. He wanted to take her on this table.

"Hermione…" he hummed and it came out like a confession.

Her eyes were dancing over his face, "It's not possible," she whispered suddenly looking terrified and he was about to tell her it was– it was living and real,  _it_ , the feeling, like a throbbing pulse– when suddenly he thought he heard someone else call her name.

"Hermione," the wistful voice said again. They snatched their hands away. "I didn't know you were at Hogwarts."

"Luna," Hermione exclaimed taken aback. Draco cursed. It was that barmy Ravenclaw and she was here with– well, well, well…  _Nott_. His sneaky Slytherin friend was standing behind Lovegood, his eyes narrowed at Draco.  _Just what exactly was Nott doing with her?_  he wondered.

"We're discussing an assignment," Hermione said suddenly. "For Arithmancy." Dear Merlin, help him, no one had even asked what they were doing.

"That's funny," Theo said with a stony expression. "Draco isn't in that class."

"No," she stuttered. "Of course, I—"

"McGonagall said it'd get me out of detention if I helped Granger with a divination project, explain the constellations significant to the Malfoy family. What are  _you two_  doing here?" he asked looking at Nott pointedly.

"Hello Draco Malfoy," Luna smiled warmly. "Theodore was in need of a drink."

"Actually, Luna, if you don't mind, I need to have a word with Draco," he said evenly.

Hermione was looking between the two boys nervously. She stood abruptly and said to Lovegood, "We're finished here… Luna, would you mind walking back with me to the castle?"

Draco watched the two witches leave the pub. As soon as the doors swung shut and they were alone again Theo rounded on him.

"What the hell were you saying to her?" he asked. "Why in Merlin's name was she even here with you?"

Draco said nothing.

"We discussed this," Theo said trying to calm himself. He did it whenever he knew the wrong approach to something was to get angry. "I told you it needs to stop. Just, tell me, what were you saying to her?"

"It's none of your business," muttered Draco. "Don't know why you're in my face when you're secretly traipsing around with Lovegood."

Theo was shaking his head ignoring him completely. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"I said it's none of your business—"

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stop."

"I can't!" he snapped knocking his glass off the table. "Don't you think I would've fucking stopped if I knew how?" Putting his elbows on the table, Draco ran his hands through his hair, his head bent down. He muttered a curse under his breath because he hadn't meant to admit to anything but there was only so much a person could take.

Nott quietly pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.

Theo bent his head close to Draco's and began speaking in whispers as if they were in a crowded room. "You can still fix this," he was saying. "All you have to do is stop. Nothing is irreversible, right?"

And he was nodding, in complete agreement with Nott, admitting that he was right, promising to stop because he could oblivate her, he could fix this, he could make everything go back to the way it was. He could do what he needed to do– repair the Vanishing cabinet. Complete the mission. Except he wouldn't do any of that, he only wanted Theo to think so, believe he'd do so. But he was in too deep.

Like he'd said. He couldn't stop, he didn't know how.


	18. Truths & Half-Truths

Hermione and Luna were trudging back in the snow to Hogsmeade, arm in arm, through the cold night air. Luna who was normally a lot more talkative was being uncharacteristically quiet.

"Thanks for walking back with me," said Hermione trying to break the silence.

"That's alright," Luna smiled. "I could tell Theodore needed to stay and we needed to leave."

Hermione found it strange the way she'd say his name. "I didn't realise you were friends with Nott."

"We are and we aren't," she shrugged. "He writes to me once in awhile, especially around Christmas. He misses his mother like I miss my mother."

"I'm sorry Luna," Hermione said softly. She hadn't known that his mother was dead. Then it dawned on her that Nott had probably seen her die, that's why he could see the Thestrals in fifth year. She'd always wondered why that was. The walk back felt long and the silence was creeping back up between them. She couldn't bear it. "It must be nice to have someone to talk to about it," she tried filling in the quiet as they reached the castle. "I can only imagine how hard it must be…"

"Oh, we never talk about them," said Luna wearing a dreamy expression, wholly unaffected by the topic of conversation. "There's just something comfortable about being around someone who understands… How long have you been in love with Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione stopped dead dropping her arm.

"Excuse me?" Her voice sounded small.

"I just assumed," she said gazing at her with a vacant expression. "With all the fairy dust…"

Hermione felt her blood curdle.  _Fairy dust_. Of all the crazy things she's ever said! "Luna, please, sometimes you say the most ridiculous things!" Hermione choked in fury, folding her hands and marching off into the castle.

That same night in the bathroom after her shower she was drying her hair when she caught her reflection in the mirror. She went up to it and studied herself closely, looking above her head, over her shoulder and all around her.  _Fairy dust,_ she tutted. She'd never heard of something as foolish as that.

* * *

The next day Hermione was walking back to the Gryffindor Tower from visiting Buckbeak when she spotted her friends.

"Harry! Ginny!" she exclaimed hurrying toward them. "I've just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck– I mean Witherwings." She rolled her eyes. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"Yeah," Ron tried to say, "pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim—"

"I've got something for you, Harry," she interrupted, in an excited rush to deliver Dumbledore's letter. "Oh, hang on – password. Abstinence."

"Precisely," said the Fat Lady giving Hermione the I-know-what-you-did look. She'd been silently reproaching her ever since Draco stayed over that night.

"What's up with her?" asked Harry.

"No idea," said Hermione feigning ignorance as she led the way into the packed common room. "Anyway!"

She rummaged in her pocket for a moment, then pulled out a scroll of parchment with Dumbledore's writing on it.

"Great," said Harry, unrolling it. "I've got loads to tell him–and you. Let's sit down–"

But at that moment there was a loud squeal of "Won-Won!" and Lavender Brown came hurtling out of nowhere and flung herself into Ron's arms. Hermione didn't have the patience to deal with this, she gave a tinkling laugh and began walking over to a table on the other side of the room.

"Coming Ginny?"

"No, thanks, I said I'd meet Dean," replied Ginny, but Harry was soon at her side sitting down at the table.

"So how was your Christmas?" he asked.

"Oh, fine," she tried shrugging nonchalantly. "Nothing special. How was it at Won-Won's?"

"I'll tell you in a minute," said Harry. "Look, Hermione, can't you—"

"No, I can't," she deadpanned knowing all too well where this conversation was going. "So don't even ask."

"I thought maybe, you know, over Christmas—"

"Maybe…" She found herself conceding. Harry looked hopeful. She knew he was exhausted by the animosity between her and Ron and if she was being honest she was tiring of it too. She felt bad that Harry was caught in the middle but she was hurt. Except now… with all the secrets she was hiding, did she have a right to be angry?

"Listen," he said sitting a little closer to her so that they wouldn't be overheard. "I have to tell you something…" so Hermione listened.

When he had finished, she was internally panicking. This was the moment where she would tell Harry everything, reveal the whole truth, come clean, wash her hands of it, but all she could stammer out was, "Err… well, maybe—"

"I know what you're going to say, maybe Snape was pretending to offer help so that he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing…"

"Well…"  _Not even close to what I was going to say_ , Hermione thought. "Yes."

"Ron's dad and Lupin think so too," Harry said grudgingly. "But this definitely proves Malfoy's planning something, you can't deny that."

"No, I can't," she answered slowly. Because she really, really couldn't. He was definitely up to something and she was certain it was in the Room of Requirement.

"And he's acting on Voldemort's orders, just like I said!"

"Hmm… did either of them actually mention Voldemort's name?"

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure… Snape definitely said 'your master,' and who else would that be?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, biting her lip. "Maybe his father?" Oh God, why was she saying things she didn't herself believe, of course, they were referring to Voldemort. She was screaming at herself,  _just tell Harry, tell him everything_ , but she was paralyzed.

Her mind was racing.

Why would Snape make an Unbreakable Vow? He was in the Order and Dumbledore trusted him. She couldn't believe that he would want to help Draco kill Dumbledore, she just couldn't believe it. Although with her recent discovery it seemed like there was a real Death Eater trend…

 _His mother_ , she thought. Harry said Snape had promised his mother so… it must mean that Narcissa Malfoy knew– Draco had been given a suicide mission. Had she forced Snape to make the Vow?

"What is it?" Harry asked eagerly.

Hermione shook her head, "Nothing."

"I know that look, you've just figured something out."

Shaking her head again she insisted it was nothing. She really wanted him to leave Draco alone. She would fix it, talk to him… without Harry. "Maybe we should just leave it alone," she tried. "Just let it be."

"You're unbelievable, you are," said Harry, getting frustrated with her. "We'll see who's right. You'll be eating your words, Hermione, just like the Ministry." She glanced away nervously because if Harry ever found out just how much she knew she'd be doing more than eating her words. There'd be days, maybe months of groveling involved. "Oh yeah, I had a row with Rufus Scrimgeour as well…"

Hermione was livid hearing about the Minister's visit to the Burrow. After everything the Ministry had put Harry through last year, they had a great deal of nerve asking him for help now. She spent the rest of the evening chatting to Harry and cussing everyone out. She'd been so wrapped up in her own mind she'd forgotten just how much she missed her friend. Ginny joined them a little later and in the evening, after watching Ron struggle to free himself from Lavender's tentacles, he sat with them. The two of them didn't speak but he gave her a small smile which she reluctantly returned.

Then she headed to the library to revise for a little. The N.E.W.T.S were right around the corner and there was no time like the present.

* * *

After assuring Nott that he'd give up his, 'fascination with the Mudblood', he'd returned to the castle and stayed up late into the night reading a Picture of Dorian Gray. He understood why Hermione had given it to him and he really wished he hadn't read it. The reasons for wishing so were numerous but among them, the worst was that it made him wonder if she had been spending time with him because she thought she had to save him from himself. Like her S.P.E.W campaign… or, like Neville Longbottom. He didn't want to be her pity project.

He was soon distracted from those questions when the first few Slytherins began to floo back home in the late afternoon. Then suddenly, everyone was back, unpacking their trunks, participating in a competition of show and tell of what gifts they'd received or things they'd done over the holidays.

After having conjured two glasses, Blaise poured himself and Draco the rest of the contents of the firewhiskey bottle he'd brought on Christmas day. Then his friend sat on the couch next to Pansy, who immediately snuggled up to him. The charmed coin began burning a hole in his pocket, but there were too many eyes around to take it out. He'd do it later.

Milicent Bulstrode was regaling everyone with how wonderful her ski trip had been in the Alps while Tracey Davis was proudly displaying an expensive pendant her parents had bought her. He looked to the other side of the room to find Crabbe and Goyle cornering first year's and looting their trunks for candy they'd gotten over the holidays. Those two lugs were growing bigger by the day, and not all of that growth was vertical. Nott, for whatever reason, was absent and Draco could only assume it was because he had Prefect duties to carry out.

He was on his second glass of firewhiskey when Astoria Greengrass finished describing the highlights of the New Year party she'd attended and asked how everyone else's was. Normally the most boastful, this year, Draco sat in silence, listening to the others. He certainly couldn't tell anyone what he'd been doing– pined over a Mudblood, plotted to kill the headmaster, read a muggle book– nope, wrong crowd.

Pansy raised her chin with a haughty look before going into detail about how she'd spent her New Years Eve. "And Blaise came with me of course," she finished giving him a soft peck on his cheek. It was nice to see Pansy happy for a change but it still felt a little awkward seeing them like this together. In fact, Blaise himself looked a little uncomfortable when Pansy bestowed such public displays of affection on him. But the poor bloke was so besotted with her all he could do was clear this throat and laugh humourlessly.

"Well you'll never believe who asked me out over Christmas break," Daphne piped up. Draco wondered what happened to the fellow she was seeing over in Durmstrang. All eyes turned to her, waiting. Seeing as she had everyone's undivided attention she announced with pride, "Cormac McLaggen. His uncle works with the Minister of Magic."

"Him?" Pansy scoffed disbelievingly. "His interests lie elsewhere."

Astoria narrowed her eyes at the Slytherin girl, "It's true, he wrote her," she said defending her sister. Daphne flicked her hair in triumph.

"Well," Pansy snickered. "He must like to play doubles because he was busy wrapped around Hermione Granger at Slughorn's party."

Blaise's eyes flicked to him.

"You're lying!" Daphne huffed, turning red with anger.

"She's exaggerating," Blaise interjected trying to protect the younger girl's feelings... or, Draco thought,  _is he trying to protect me?_

"I am not!" Pansy sat up straight. "I saw them snogging—"

"It's not true—"

"Under some mistletoe." Pansy finished.

Astoria seemed to have sensed the escalating tension in the room said innocently, "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation. So, were there a lot of interesting people at Slughorn's party? I heard—"

"You're a liar Pansy Parkinson!" Astoria's younger sister hissed.

"Am not!" she retorted sharply. "Don't believe me?" she challenged leaning toward Daphne. "Ask Parvati Patil, she told me the whole story! Granger herself told Parvati, she only likes 'really good' Quidditch players, so when he asked her, she said yes, although I'm sure it was just to make Weasley jealous. Everyone knows she's out to get rid of Brown. And Blaise saw it too, he was at the party with me– tell them, Blaise." But when she looked to her boyfriend for support he merely cleared his throat and gave her an indiscernible shake of the head.

Catching herself Pansy sat back down and curled into Blaise. "I could be wrong," she added softly. "Maybe it was a dare or a prank… probably nothing going on with them."

Daphne looked furious. She stomped off to the girl's dormitory with Astoria hastily trailing behind.

Throughout the conversation, Draco hadn't so much as blinked, but there was bile rising up his throat and maybe he was going to throw up. Maybe he couldn't handle more than one whiskey… or maybe he was going to have another breakdown. Setting his glass down, he excused himself looking bored.

He went outside into the corridor and leaned against a wall, letting his head fall back. Images of Hermione under the mistletoe, under Cormac, wouldn't stop flashing through his mind. He wanted to maim McLaggen, cut him to ribbons, but who he really wanted to hurt was her. Just who did the little Mudblood think she was?

She didn't have the right to kiss anyone.

Did she think she could dangle him on a string, bat her fucking eyelashes at him, have him twisted around her pinky finger? He pressed his eyes closed. She had no right to have her tongue down that oaf's throat, no fucking right. Didn't she know–  _didn't she fucking know?_

He suddenly remembered the coin. He took it out of his pocket and read the message.

He went to his room to get the cursed muggle book.

Then he marched off to the library, intent on ridding himself of the book and her once and for all.


	19. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is M rated and contains dubious consent.

There was a jewelry box hidden somewhere in Hermione's bedroom, in London, with nothing inside except for a dancing ballerina. Her grandmother gifted it to her on her ninth birthday. It had a little silver lock and key, as well as a small hidden sleeve. Having no jewelry to hide, she'd open the box just to watch the ballerina dance. She'd spin round and round, on this endless loop, to sad melancholic music.

This was how she felt. Like she was on a strange merry-go-round she couldn't get down from. Every time she was anywhere near Draco Malfoy she'd end up lost, unable to look at him one moment, staring at him the next; the pallor of his skin, the bow of his lips, the grey-blue of his eyes, the line of his jaw, the wisps of his blonde hair. And every time she was nowhere near him, she was haunted by the ghost of his presence.

Had it really only been last night that they were at the Three Broomsticks huddled up in dark corner of the pub, his hand touching hers, asking her if he was in the equation.

And then… whispering her name, looking at her like that. He had no right. Because out of all the nasty things he'd ever said or done to her, saying her name had been the cruelest. She heard it even now, echoing in her memory, tempting her.

But she couldn't.

In a way, she was grateful for Luna showing up. She didn't want to think about what she'd have done if they weren't interrupted.  _There are some things you can never take back._ Draco Malfoy would be one of those things.

It'd be like going down the rabbit hole.

And yet, after nearly two hours of failing to concentrate on Ancient Runes, she'd messaged him on the coin asking him to meet her in the library. She hadn't received a reply. It was a stupid idea. What was she thinking– to ask him to come here just to, what, see him for a few minutes, say goodnight? Letting her forehead fall on her open book she admitted that she'd most definitely lost her mind.

Everything was a mess.

It crossed her mind that maybe Ron was really to blame. If he'd never gotten together with that god-awful succubus… Why hadn't Luna seen the fairy dust with Ron– she loved Ron, she did. She'd imagined how nice it would be to hold his hand, have him smile at her, make her laugh, kiss his freckles, curl up in the common room together. She didn't want to do any of that with Draco. She was too scared to speak of the things she thought of doing with him. She'd come very close to asking Ginny what it means when you want to strip a boy bare, hold him, smell him, bite him, breathe him, drown in him…

She was so lost in her musings that she didn't realize the library was closing till Madam Pince found her and issued a stern warning. Packing her bags, she vowed to stop thinking of the blonde-haired boy and fairy dust, once and for all. But the fates were conspiring against her because as soon as she stepped out into the open corridor he was there, leaning against the wall, waiting for her.

He'd come.

"Draco," said Hermione surprised. Her eyes darted around, anyone could see them standing in the corridor. "Not here," she said leading him to a classroom. She whispered _Alohomora_  and unlocked the door.

"I read your book," he spat as soon as they were inside.

Hermione was confused. "Again?"

"No, for the first time."

"You said—"

"I lied," he scowled tossing the book carelessly on the desk. He stepped into her. "But I get it now. I figured it out. I'm one of your little house elves, a new project for you. Trying to save me from myself, trying to save my soul. Granger to the bloody rescue."

Hermione didn't understand his hostility. "I'm just trying to help, I care about you, we… we're friends."

"Friends?" he hissed in a low voice, the slight scent of Firewhiskey on his breath.

"You've been drinking," she huffed. "On a school night and on school grounds. Alcohol isn't permitted—

A growl pushed up through his throat and the sound reverberated between them.

"Let me make something perfectly clear to you. We are not friends. I will never be your friend. You are a thorn in my side, a bloody pebble in my shoe. I hate you, Hermione Granger, you mean nothing to me,  _nothing_."

Each word cut deeply through Hermione like a sharp blade. She was on the verge of tears. Her mind was spinning, she thought there was something between them, something inexplicable and she allowed herself to feel it, despite knowing she shouldn't. Then all of that warmth she'd had for him began to boil and burn her and then suddenly she hated him, never wanted to see or speak to him again.

"Fine!" she choked, shoving him. "Let this be a lesson, a reminder to never consider you, Draco Malfoy, worthy of any kindness or consideration! I don't know why I even bothered. You are a failure in every sense of the word and a bitter disappointment, a coward—"

Draco's lips fell violently against hers, in a bruising kiss. But she couldn't, she still needed to hate him, hurt him even. She pursed her lips, denying him, trying to tear away from his mouth but then one hand was buried in her hair and the other was on her jaw holding her in place.

* * *

Draco could hear her words ringing in his ears, muted by the pulsing, gushing sound of blood. He had failed to catch the snitch, to best Potter at a duel, to outsmart Hermione, to repair the vanishing cabinet, to protect his mother and he was failing at this too, failing at being a Death Eater just like everything else he ever bloody did.

And he just wanted her to shut up.

He pressed into her, nipping her bottom lip, biting till he could taste blood. She whimpered into his mouth. Her moans, her blood, the scent of gardenia's on her skin, it all stirred this perverse desire within him; worse than his fevered daydreams, because this was real and he couldn't wake up. He groaned, crushing his hips into hers. Hermione shuddered.

The sensation sobered him and he pulled himself away.

He was almost panting. She was holding her hand to her mouth and staring with wide glistening eyes. Still as stone.

He felt an eternity go by.

Then suddenly, she came to life.

"You don't get to kiss me!" she yelled. "You don't get to even touch me, you don't get to—"

"But McLaggen does?" he asked, his anger resurfacing. Hermione was taken aback. She opened and closed her mouth, like a fish out of water. He watched her flounder and took pleasure in it. He'd finally found a question she didn't know how to answer.

"It wasn't like that—"

"First Krum, then Weasley, now McLaggen. Didn't know you were such a slag for large dumb Quidditch players." And he was so incensed and out of his mind with jealousy that he didn't care that he was being cruel. He wanted to hurt her. "Probably why Brown is with Weasley, she's not as fickle as you are."

Her mouth hung open and then she was screaming again, "How dare you!" She was slapping him, pounding his chest with her fists and he was seething, images of Cormac and her taunting him. His ogre arms all over her, touching his Mudblood.  _His_.

He kissed her again, hard. She gasped as her back met the wall. He slid his tongue against hers.

Breaking the kiss, he asked, "Was he good Granger, did you like it?"

"Stop it, just stop," she whispered her voice hoarse.

"Did he touch you?"

She was shaking her head, tears threatening to spill.

"No?" he whispered into her ear. He bit down on her exposed neck then licked the tender skin of where he'd bitten her. She hissed. Then he was undoing her robes, letting them fall.

He was vaguely aware of her hands pushing and pulling, of her whimpering and whispering, "We can't, God, Draco, we can't…" He heard the words but didn't understand. Because she knew, she knew this would happen.

It was all too much for him. He just needed her to stop fighting it, be still, he just needed a minute to touch her. He cast a wandless sticking charm and her hands were against the wall above her head.

This was better, so much better.

He allowed his hands to roam all over her body, over her clothes. He dragged them down the small of her waist to the curve of her hips and up again to her chest. Rising and falling, trembling like her bottom lip.

"Don't," Her voice shook. "We have to pretend it isn't there."

He sighed deeply, "No, no more pretending," and ripped the buttons of her shirt open. She was… perfect, just how he'd imagined. He touched her skin and searched for warmth. She flinched as he traced the thin white scar over her breasts. Dolohov. It occurred to him that maybe if he had to kill anyone, he'd like to kill him.

He closed his eyes, burying his nose in the crevice of her neck. He could only think of gardenias here. Gardenias and her pretty little neck. Everything else fell away. He could breathe like this, he could forget. He dropped to his knees.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she asked, her voice breaking with panic. Instead of answering, he yanked her skirt down in one swift motion letting it fall to her feet. Her lips parted, maybe she wanted to scream at him, for help, for it to stop, but she only stared in shock as he made lecherous scrutiny of her half-naked form.

Her shirt hung off her, ruffled by his ministrations.

He was drunk with her.

He placed his fingers on her dainty ankles trailing them up and down, a gentle caress of her legs. They were shaking and he didn't know how she was still able to stand. Hermione whimpered as he ran his lips against her creamy skin, the tip of his nose caressing and inhaling her. He raised his eyes to look into hers then it fell to the apex of her thighs, at the light blue cotton that covered her. He heard her breath hitch.

"Don't," she breathed, following his gaze. And he knew she meant it. Knew she was afraid. But he was so tired of being afraid.

He leaned in and swept his tongue along the cotton of her knickers. She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. He pressed a kiss there. He wondered if she could feel his mouth through the fabric. Then his teeth brushed against her clit and her eyes flew open. "Dra-co," she panted. He shuddered at the sound of his name and the way it jerked out of her. The irony wasn't lost on him. He was on his knees and he had never felt a control like this. A power.

If he could just taste her once…

He grabbed the hem of her knickers and began pulling down.

"Oh God, no," she trembled squeezing her legs closed, "I can't."

But it was no use fighting. He tugged it all the way down. Taking her calf, he pulled her leg over his shoulder, bringing her hips to his mouth. She was shaking. She tried squeezing her thighs closed again, but he held them apart, his fingers digging into the soft of her flesh. He felt the warm wet of his tongue dip in and out of the warm wet of her _._ She let out a mangled noise. Draco was suddenly so calm, so far away from himself. He could only think of their warm wet meeting each other, of kissing it, biting it, lapping at it.

Everything had fallen quiet. Even she'd become quiet. All he could hear was heavy panting and the sounds of his tongue. He liked it like this, without the words, without the screaming. He learned her. There were some things that made her gasp and some that made her sigh. Then his tongue began to stroke her faster and he could feel her legs begin to quiver uncontrollably.

Then she was moaning or crying, he didn't know. Her hips writhing in a feverish frenzy, moving to meet his mouth on their own accord. He had to steady her.

He heard her say, "Please, no," and choke his name. Her knee almost buckled as he felt tremors course through her, a pulsing underneath his tongue. A contorted cry tore out of her.

He stopped. He could still hear his heart pounding in his ears. He licked his lips, the last taste of her. He moved her leg off his shoulder and placed it back onto the floor. Breathing over her crotch, he brushed his mouth to the skin just above, and then to her stomach and trailed a line of light kisses up to her mouth. She parted it ever so slightly, just enough for him to run his tongue along the edges of her lips. Her eyes fluttered open, cheeks splotchy and flushed. She looked drunk too.

Draco caught her forearms as he released them from the spell.

"You shouldn't have," she said weakly, turning away. She was putting her clothes back on. He watched wondering if he should do it for her since he was the one who undressed her. He felt… numb. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

"Hermione…" he whispered, reaching for her hand but she was already pulling away.

He walked at a steady pace back to the dungeons in a daze. He showered, brushed his teeth and dressed for bed. He had no trouble falling asleep but it all came crashing down on him in the morning like a heavy veiled fog was lifting and the full force of what he'd done had hit him.

Merlin.

He ruined everything.


End file.
